Something Knitty

I imagined a post explaining in gory detail the germs that have swept through our house the past week and a half, but decided against it.  I was going to tell you about projectile vomit (times five) in the middle of four separate nights (Can someone give me some sort of scientific-type explanation for why vomitous episodes begin during deep sleep?), in places like a kindergarten classroom, the middle of three different beds, the hallway, the walls, the old chair in the middle bedroom.  About 50 loads of laundry.  About eating nothing but jello and toast for four days.  

Somehow I managed to miss Sonar X5's four year immunizations.  Not sure how, but considering how many childhood immunizations there are nowadays, and the certainty of springtime illnesses around here, I suppose it isn't too surprising.  He must have them to enter kindergarten in the fall, so off we went to get him up to date.  

A few updates and then no more whining.

No, I do not have a plastic surgeon. That was sarcasm.

No, in spite of all experience indicating the contrary, I did NOT have the flu OR pneumonia. An invasive nasal swab and an assay of blood and urine tests confirmed against the flu, favoring instead "Pyrexia of unknown origin" and "Viral Infection NOS (not otherwise specified)." I am a conundrum. Doctor called it 'ILI' or Influenza-like Illness. Bastard virus.

Besides a persistent stuffy head and phlegmy cough, my cesarean scar feels like it has been ripped apart on the left side, sending shooting pains up under the mama-belly fat on the left side. No, it has not actually been ripped apart. The coughing has just yanked on the abdominal muscle incessantly and pulled at the tight bit of scarry tissue there. But heed this, oh ye who might consider ELECTIVE cesarean: It's not a teeny little scar. It's a big, honking, baby-sized scar. Mine is a big sweet smile that stretches almost from hip to hip across the top of my pubes. I wouldn't give it up in a heartbeat, representing as it does the gateway into the world for those three awesome Sonars. And scars heal, but they don't always heal in predictable ways, and I have to think that doing your best to push that kiddo out au naturale has less of a chance of leaving you feeling like your stomach is being split in two every time you catch a bad cough.

On the up-side... I wrote 63 pages on a script that was a lot of fun until it ground to a screeching halt with the onset of ILI. ScriptFrenzy ends tonight with the page count thus. I am really proud of what I wrote, and proud of my ability to crank out ideas and words when the universe conspires to grant me healthy working conditions. The story is one that I think I will work into novelly form rather than trying to finish the script on my own time. I really encourage any of you who started a script (ILEANA!), even if you only wrote one page, to head over to the ScriptFrenzy site before midnight local time and enter a page count. Do not discount the warm fuzzy power of the page-count widget, even if you only enter the number 1. Okay, full disclosure, the page-count widget for NaNoWriMo is more warm and fuzzy, but ScriptFrenzy is on a budget. Still!! Your page-count is awesome and it is yours! A year ago, could you have imagined that you'd even try a script? It's so cool.

*sigh*

Ok, back to disclosures.

April (hereafter known as the Month of the Endless Demon Virus) was a bitch. I am having a seriously hard time feeling good right now. It would be easy to blame it on the bad bout of viruses, the long slog between getting myself and the rest of the family nominally healthy over the past few weeks. Spiced with the disappointment about falling short of the writing goal. But the truth is, I think I was struggling with enthusiasm and satisfaction even before The Month of Endless Demon Virus went awry.

I am trying to remain hopeful. My family is awesome. I have good people and good things in my life. (count yourselves among them) I know this. I am trying to remember to be patient. To let myself heal. To get through all of the sick drugs and start eating normally again. To not get frustrated when I can't do all of the things that I normally do.

The patience is a struggle for me.

While I wait around trying to be patient, I'm trying to do a few things that might help things along. I'm taking all of my medicine (which is thankfully almost finished). I'm trying to eat good food and drink gallons of water, and a lot of chocolate. On the theory that my body might be missing something, but I can't figure it out because I can't smell or taste anything yet, I am planning to bring home a variety of flavorful foods from the grocery store tomorrow, including some spicy nori rolls with wasabe, the fixings for lasagna with Italian sausage, the fixings for a key lime pie, a jar of hot salsa and some good tortilla chips, and a bag of doritos. Yeah, ok, the doritos might be a bit redundant with the tortilla chips. I'll get a coke instead. Right now, I am enjoying my first beer for three weeks. It is good. Heck, maybe I'll even get the ingredients to take up the Yummy Mummy's hot dog challenge. If I can manage to breathe, I might even run.

Sonar X5 has counseled (sweet child) that I should try doing something crazy. With a wrinkled-nose-smile and a giggle he shrugged off specific suggestions though, so I'll have to get back to you on that one. Sonar X3 suggested that it would help if everyone tried to be nice. Hear hear. Sonar X7 suggested the lasagna. Partner suggested a strategic application of hot oil, though the language he whispered in my ear was much more colorful.

Bring it on. I'll try it all. It would just be so nice to feel a little bit good for a change.

So spill it. What do you do when you feel a little blue? What strategies and rituals and tips do you employ for a little warm fuzzy, for a little bit of good when everything else gets you down? I'm only asking because I suspect the next step might involve velcroing the children to the wall and throwing plates, and nobody really wants me to be THAT person. Not even me.

With apologies to the Harper's "Index":

• $748.72; our monthly health insurance premium.
• $15; copayment anytime one of us wishes to see a physician in a clinical setting for any reason.
• $100; copayment anytime one of us wishes to see a physician in an emergent setting for any reason.
• $95; cost for the ineffectual flu shots we got back in October.
• 6; number of days this flu took to infect all five of us, as measured by first onset of symptoms.
• 6; minimum number of pounds I've lost since first onset of flu symptoms on Thursday.
• 4; minimum number of pounds lost by Sonar X7 since first onset of flu symptoms last Monday (I stopped checking, this freaked me out too much).
• $150; average monthly drug costs for our family, including allergy and asthma meds.
• $217.96; cost of one week of additional drugs for treatment of the flu (still accumulating).
• $60; cost of doctor visits during this epic flu battle (still accumulating).
• $29.95; cost of the "Cough Your Way to Rock Hard Abs" DVD, hosted by Archie Fleming.
• 2; rank of "Coughin' to the Oldies" among most popular fitness DVDs for "mature Americans."
• 1; rank of Feeling Like Your Tongue's Been Ripped out by the Root in underreported injuries among subscribers to Archie Fleming's Cough Your Way to Fitness series.
• $29.95; cost of a cool hat, snazzy stainless steel water bottle, and some sunscreen to take with you outside, where you breathe fresh, clean air and move your body in a way that doesn't make you feel like you want to die.
• 500 (est.); loads of laundry we did yesterday.
• 1 (min.); large loads of laundry washed with the Load Size set to Small.