Normally a weekend in bed is a good thing but not this weekend.  I started feeling crappy Friday and thought if I went to bed early I would be OK.  Not so.  Saturday I felt worse and tried to sleep in between doing laundry, letting the dogs in and out, and listening to Jerry complain that I wasn’t doing anything.  In his eyes I am totally worthless unless I am actively doing something, even if I am three steps away from death.  It doesn’t matter that he is usually doing nothing unless he’s at work, unless it is swilling brews, making messes for me to clean up, or blowing money on gambling and lottery.  There is his standard for himself, and then his standard for me.  He is quite happy with himself so I will let it ride, but when I’m sick I really need the rest.  The pisser is I usually have a hell of a time actually getting any rest in between his incessant demands and pretty much constant whining.

When I’m asleep I’m not spending any money- but I’m not cooking, cleaning or running errands either.

Sunday morning I figured I would be quite fine.  Wrong again.   I really wanted to go to church- the church being a hospital for sinners, and frankly I’m the worst sinner I know- but there was no way I was going to try to go to church the way my head was pounding.  I did fix Jerry breakfast complete with bacon around 9AM, because it was better to just do it so he would shut up.  After that I went back to bed and at 11:30 Steve-o calls (ostensibly to wheedle more money out of me) and the pounding headache had become a piercing pain,  like someone had thrust an icepick through my right eye socket.  I don’t get nauseated easily but I was starting to feel really gross at that point.  So what do I do? Figure I feel crappy because I didn’t eat breakfast, so I fix some mac and cheese.  BAD CHOICE- but then hind sight is 20/20.

Less than half an hour later I was spewing slightly used mac and cheese like a freaking fountain.  Nasty, but I can think of worse things to barf up.  Thankfully I’d not decided on the Szechwan noodles or hot chili.  Usually I can’t barf at all no matter how loathfully sick I get so this was a bit surprising.  My head hurt so freaking bad I probably should have gone to the ER but today I seem to be, if not feeling great, I am not spewing puke and I am relatively headache free.  Since I am vertical and nominally functional today,  riding it out was probably the best choice. 

After my last experience in Mt. Carmel East’s ER (three hours’ worth of purgatorial torture waiting to be seen with a broken arm- should have just  taken some more Naproxen and called the orthopedist the next day anyway) I thought that suffering in my own bed was preferable to suffering in an uncomfy chair surrounded by unwashed strangers who likely carry far worse contagions than my own. 

For someone who has had plenty of exposure to medical facilities, I generally know when to go and when to not go.  Yesterday was not a day to go.  The ER on a Sunday is never a good place to be. I suspect this incident was one of those “let nature take its course” deals anyway, one of those times even when you do seek medical advice they can’t really do anything for you, so you’ve wasted your time and money.  I am quite capable of telling myself to go to bed, drink some broth and soda and hope tomorrow is a better day.

The White Death did actually come through Friday and Saturday- it wasn’t as bad as anticipated, but now the forecasters are calling for more of the same tonight and tomorrow.  This is a pisser.  I am not the greatest fan of  “winter wonderland” as it is- I don’t like traipsing through the slush and crud.  But this too shall pass.  Around the end of May.