Tuesday, April 7, 2009

Ailments and Injuries

Here I am. I have been in a circle of Kleenexes, groin strains, mucus, and deadlines for about a week now, so I have been a little absent from the blogging world. It took everything in me to turn in all of my deadlines on time, and everyone else is left with the somewhat dilapidated Aubrey.

I know that reads rather pitiful, but I have to tell you—I’m pretty sure I look and sound pitiful too. I am constantly getting sympathetic looks with the question of, “Feeling better?”
I’m not bitter about the looks or the questions. At all. In fact, it’s all I can do to not whimper and crawl into the said sympathetic person’s lap, asking for a brief cuddle. I don’t live off of sympathy or anything, but when I’m sick, I don’t mind sympathy one bit. What I do mind when I am sick are all of the cons that go with it.

Take stopped-up noses, for instance. My poor husband is only getting pecks on the lips because when we try for a real “we’re in love and let’s be passionate” kiss, I start snorting for air. I almost suffocate to death from kissing him. It's infuriating. I hate stopped-up noses.

I hate not being able to taste. It is absolutely earth-shattering. I tried to eat some Easy Mac last night because it’s soft and warm and gooey and comforting for my throat, but I couldn’t taste it. I bought some Ghirardelli chocolates for my occasional treat, but I cannot eat them because what’s the point of eating those delicious calories if you can’t taste them?! [Quick side-story: A few weeks ago, my mother-in-law sent me some Dove chocolates in Evan’s birthday package because…well, she’s always supplying me with Dove because they’re some of my favorites. I let them last for quite a while..just getting one or two a day…okay, sometimes five…Well, then a few days ago, I went to get one and there weren’t any left. I quickly shot a look at Evan who had just eaten several. “You ate all of them?!” He shrugged and told me he gave me the last one. I then proceeded to look around our house for any form of chocolate. I returned to the living room, somewhat dazed. “We don’t have any chocolate,” I said, panic thick in my voice. “We don’t…there’s none left. It’s all gone. I need chocolate.” Evan’s eyebrows quickly reached to the ceiling. I wanted to laugh because I could see him trying to figure out a way to comfort his irrational wife who was having a panic attack about not having chocolate in the house, but I couldn’t laugh because I could not fathom not having any chocolate in the house at that moment. “It’s okay,” he said slowly in a not-too patronizing tone. “We need to go to the store anyway. We’ll get you some later.” I resisted the urge to stomp my foot and whine, “But I want it nowwww.” Instead, I went to the kitchen, grabbed a bag of semi-sweet Ghirardelli chocolate chips that I had for baking purposes, and popped some in my mouth. Grrrrross. Not as good as when they are in cookies. My craving for chocolate soon left, and my sanity returned. BUT the real Ghirardelli chocolates that were mentioned in the beginning paragraph were the calming purchase I made later in the day…So, you can imagine how I felt when I realized I wouldn’t even be able to taste them..]

Now to catch you up with my other ailments. I pulled my groin. And as much as I would love to tell you I pulled it in a very exciting way, I didn’t. I pulled it at the gym, and I don’t even know when. I just know that on Friday, as we were walking to the car, I had some real pain at the top of my left leg..in the groin region. God, I hate that word. I never realized it until this week when I’ve said it about 20 million times. We went to the public library, and I was still limping—even crying out in pain when I had to get up from sitting. We went to rent some movies, and it still hurt. We went home, and it still hurt. I thought it would go away in a few hours, but on Saturday it still hurt. I was still walking like Quasi-freakin-moto. Add to that my throat was beginning to get really sore, I was not a very happy camper. But I was DETERMINED to go to the Medieval Fair. It is one of my favorite things that happens here. I love to watch all of the weird people, and all of the dogs, and all of the weird people, and I love the lemonade….and watching all of the weird people. Well, we go. And we bring along my fellow Hot Librarian. And we meet up with our other friends and their dog who I love dearly. And then it comes to my realization that I probably should have taken Claritin. Why? Because the wind is INSANE in this state right now. And at the Medieval Fair, there are all sorts of things being swirled around my nose and eyes. And then I start to feel it. “It” being the allergy attacks I experience at random points in my life. My eyes start to pour (thank God I had sunglasses), my throat begins to close in more, and I start to sneeze. I sneeze every. five. seconds. No lie. I was miserable. I wandered around, looking at the booths, trying to see all of the weird people. But I couldn’t. Because Mother Nature decided to blind me with allergy tears. I had to ask the Greyhound Rescue people if I could have a few Kleenexes. I ran out quickly, and had to ask the food people for several paper towels. That was nice--walking around with paper towels sticking out of my skirt pockets. I even bought a lemonade, but I couldn't taste it. I wanted to shake my fists in the air, but instead I wandered around dazedly trying to make sense in conversation.. I don't think I succeeded. Whether or not I meant to or not, I would usually say something completely ridiculous that would result in all 3 of us laughing hysterically. And then I would sneeze. And blow my nose. And sneeze again. At least I wasn't alone. Well, I was alone in the sneezing..but not alone in speaking incoherently Archimedes/Hot Librarian was having a little trouble making sense of things too (but for different reasons).. Finally she convinced me that she would understand if I wanted to leave. So we did, and I stocked up on allergy stuff. We returned our kidnapped friend to her home, and I ended up covering the bed with Kleenexes that night.

I went to the doctor yesterday and was able to get medicine...but I still feel like crap. Still look pitiful, sound pitiful, etc. And my ability to taste goes in and out.

Oh. Groin update: Better on Sunday, worse on Monday, better today.... and I'm still not allowed to go to the gym. Hopefully my lack of appetite will counteract the no-gym timey.

Another random story: I was finally hanging up my clothes that have been in a huge pile on the bedroom floor for at least a month now, and I was somewhat appalled. I have an insane amount of adorable clothes. The appalling part, a lot of them (mostly the things from last summer) do not fit at the moment. Or, if they do, there is a danger of popping buttons and obscene exposure. Another appalling fact? I stopped counting at 24 pairs of jeans. 24. pairs. of jeans. What makes this even more appalling is that I don't even wear jeans. I wear 1 pair of the 24. To give myself some credit, I have probably 6 pairs of jeans in about 4 different sizes. Ugh. That just makes me feel worse. That's what makes me want to go to the gym, but I can't because I'm a 23-year-old with a strained groin!!! Don't worry. I will be getting rid of many of them, but not until I'm down to the size I want.

I'm off now.

Hope you all are in good health, and let's hope I will be the next time I post! :)

4 comments:

Frankie said...

ohhhhhLORD Aubrey, that is exactly what I needed just now! I freaking laughed out loud the entire time I read that...especially when I got to the part about you borrowing tissues from the greyhound rescue. that was even more amazing re-lived than it was in real-time.

PS Archimedes. I accept this nickname.

PPS you can crawl into my *sympathetic* lap aaaaanytime you wanna (bow chicka bow wow).

Scriptor Senex said...

Why do we feel tempted to laugh at the misfortune of others? Answer - because they tell it in such a funny way. So they can only blame thesmelves.
Seriously, hope you feel better soon.

M.M.E. said...

And I thought I was having a bad week...On the bright side, at least you own that many jeans. I try on 24 pairs and only walk out of the store with one. I blame my 5'1" height coupled with a curvy behind. I have only my mother to thank.

Cynthia said...

Wow. That's pretty wild stuff, there, Pookie. Sorry you've had to go through all that.
What I want to know is, how can you look so darn cute with a kleenex stuffed up your nose. It's not fair. If I did that, I would NOT be cute.
(Just flashed back on Rudolph, "I'm CUTE! I'm CUTE! She says I'm CUUUUUUUUTTTTTTTE!" And I thought of you and Evan.)
Hugs to all.
See you at the C. Plaid, in the morning, I hope! :^) Mmmmm cranberry orange scones!