Change in Status

I had thought today's post would've been a long list of everything that is going well, but instead I am playing everyone's favorite game:

Stomach flu, food poisoning or adrenal whatsis?

It started Sunday night and I was up most of the night being sick.

Since the adrenal piece didn't seem to kick in until the third trip to the bathroom, I'm crossing fingers this is something benign. Like bad kombucha. And there was possible stomach bug exposure...ten days ago, but still! There's hope of this being normal GI sick, right?

It was surreal to literally feel the strength draining from my legs, weakness overtaking me like poison. Again. For the umpteenth effing time.

I had begun to think I was past that.

As it turns out, not so much.

It's a bummer because I had just done the 2.5 mile walk for the first time without feeling like I wanted to lay down on the sidewalk and die. (Note: The walk made the hubby feel the same way the first time he did it with me. I think it's the million percent humidity that makes it so miserable. Or maybe we are just sloths who dress up like humans--that would explain so much.)

Today will be spent resting as much as possible, hoping that will be enough.

Grudge of the Stomach

Am I alone in being unable to eat certain foods after having the stomach flu? As in I haven't had a Little Debbie cupcake since sometime in the mid 80s (and am all the healthier for it). Chicken wings are now gone, never to return.

This latest bout wiped out my entire palate and food repertoire. Nothing sounds good. Everything makes my gut clench. I'm going to have to come up with a whole new recipe rotation--which is a Herculean task given that it took me about 2 years to develop the current repertoire.

As a result, we've been living on take out for the last week because it's either that or we don't eat. Plus, energy for cooking has been low.

Except all the take out places manage to screw up something on the order. Every. Single. Damn. Time. Does that happen to you? There's always something wrong, major or minor, and I'm about to Lose It and spray spittle at some poor underpaid restaurant manager.

Only not really, because I'm never the one picking up the food, the hubby is. Which means I end up leaving nasty reviews on various review sites around the web instead. I'm currently considering some letters full of choice words to franchise headquarters, because I really want those Asiago croutons on my tomato soup from Panera's, damn it.

How is it when I dine in, my order is fine, but take out is always a hawt mess? Crappy quality control anyone? Gaps in the operation procedures? It's not rocket science or, you know, anything close to High School Algebra, which most restaurant employees are probably trying to muddle through--food orders have to be easier than that x y shit.

The hubby will check the order...if I remind him. If I don't, he won't. And yes, he hears about it, but the hubby thinks I'm cute when I'm ranting so he never takes me seriously.

The thing is, think about why people rely on take out. Because they are busy or sick or hate people or are Sandra Bullock. So chop chop restaurants of America and get your shiz together because right now your food is all I can stomach and I have a family to feed.

Gimme my croutons or else your online rating is going down big time. For realz.

This Is Probably Gross and It Meanders

Just FYI the toddler appears to have avoided the stomach flu. I think she may have had a mild case as evidenced by some wet hiccups that she swallowed, but other than that she was fine (even whilst channeling Linda Blair).

That was the gross bit. Now for something else.

The lesson I took from yesterday is I can't do anything and expect to feel well. Or rather, I may choose to do ONE thing after which the rest of the day will involve laying prone, panting for air and feeling like I'm going to pass out. Plus using the rescue inhaler when the asthma flares from the strain. Even sugar doesn't help any more.

This is ridiculous. The internet says I should recover from steroid withdrawal anywhere from 2 to 7 days up to several weeks.

The thing is I HAVE A LIFE.

A life, that as flexible as it is, has a hard time accommodating the ONE THING ONLY limitation.

A life that can't wait forever. Involving people who depend on me. And a small business.

I need to parent, to cook, to clean, to work and, apparently, I can pick just one of those a day. I have not cleaned anything in 6 days. I haven't cooked since I was taking 10mg of prednisone daily--I'm actually throwing out food. Exercise is almost 9 days gone.

I am seriously going to miss some work deadlines at this point--I am too tired to turn out quality work right now and am behind as a result--on top of being behind when I was sick before. With tutoring, I've already lost one student. I still may have to give up the other.

Being self-employed means I don't get FMLA or disability or paid vacation time. I either work or I lose income.

I need the energy to be productive.

I want to call and say this to the pulmonologist on Monday. It seems extreme to me that I am so incapacitated. I'm all for powering through and goodness knows I hate prednisone,but right now I'm losing more ground than I ever gained. I'm going backwards in material ways and it needs to stop.

Having asthma was better. I knew I should've just stayed home.

I tried it her way and, who knows, perhaps without the stomach flu, it may have been okay. But I am not okay now and I do not see positive change other than the muscle pain has calmed down. Even that is only a partial victory as I still have painful spasms any time I stretch or extend a limb--enough to keep me up at night.

Hopefully this weekend will bring about a miracle, but, if not, come Monday I'm going to have to become much more assertive about what's going on.

Which hahahaha, the joke's on me. If I can't hack a trip to the mall, how am I going to show up for blood work? That should be interesting.

Unsettled

I am dithering about calling the pulmonologist tomorrow. I got the distinct impression from our last conversation that my job is to 'power through.'

Enter the stomach flu.

Whereupon things have regressed.

I stand up. Then promptly sit down as I get dizzy and the world goes gray.

Do a full body stretch and I get a charley horse that extends from my neck down through my hamstrings. I'm afraid to laugh. It hurts.

Advil alternated with Tylenol is not killing the muscle pain.

Because of the blood pressure machine, I know my BP is 90/60 with a heart rate of 110.

I'm wheezing enough that sleep quality is poor, I wake up more tired than I started.

In the kitchen, I find myself at the dishwasher when the goal was to open the freezer. Almost throwing out the chicken instead of putting it in the fridge. Small mental hiccups that make me nervous about how well I'm really doing.

Some of this could be dehydration and I haven't been taking the usual repertoire of vitamins, which would, I assume, help balance my electrolytes, which, I also assume, are out of whack from the stomach flu. I am working on correcting this--my vitamin habit is earning its keep. I also missed some doses of regular meds, which is probably feeding the asthma. I'm drinking water too and some Gatorade.

Plus, I guess I need even more sugar? Because the chocolate ice cream I found hidden in the freezer (by the hubby) is helping more than I thought it would. I feel like all I've done is eat simple carbs all. day. long. When is it going to be enough? I would like to get back to low carbing asap.

What pushes my worry over the edge are the mental lapses. That is not me. I don't forget what I'm doing/where I'm going, not like that.

Maybe tomorrow will be a better day. I've made it this far, right? If the stomach flu in full throttle couldn't pull me under, the aftermath can't do any more damage.

Right?

Someone say yes. Please.

PS: Blogger is being a bonehead and I don't know what happened to those other posts. I guess I should know better than to make any promises.

Forget Waterboarding

What they really should've done at Guantanamo Bay was give everyone prednisone, then taken them off prednisone and just when the steroid withdrawal was at its peak, infected them with the stomach flu.

We would've found Bin Laden within days.

If they wanted to find Laden sooner, add in an infant who never sleeps or a very active toddler in a room with a broken baby gate.

Waterborading. Pffft. That's for sissies.

I'm alive (and wheezing unfortunately). Inordinately sore thanks to prednisone's effect on the muscles. Living on Sprite, crackers and today adding kefir--amazingly I have to have the carbs or the blood sugar tanks in a no good, very bad way--I am not used to this.

Taking bets on when this will hit the poor toddler--anyone want to guess? I was about 36-48 hours behind the hubby. So that puts the toddler at Thursday or Friday, but she was also licking my Sprite bottle while I was urmmm 'otherwise occupied', so we swapped spit.

I do have some posts written up that I'll set to publish so the blog doesn't go dead.