daringtobe's Diaryland Diary

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For the love of snot

When one is sick�there is plenty of time for introspection. There is really not much else to do besides lay there, blow your nose, try not to vomit and wonder how you can possibly make it through another day feeling this bad.

My sickness journey has spent through five days of my life that I will never get back. Most of it spent coughing so hard I almost pissed myself on several occasions.

I did however manage the usual depths of low self esteem � how could you not with chapped nose, mucus logged vocal chords a hair that resembles Keith Richard�s.

My low point came when the doctor�s office weighed me. Surely the weight was incorrect or perhaps a large farm animal accidentally wandered in and laid one of their hoofs on the scale�.tipping me into almost obesity.

So many thoughts swirling around my little fever riddled brain�most of which consisted of whether or not to work at my marriage.

Before my onslaught of malaria or whatever it is that I have, he (my husband) told me he wanted me to make a decision on whether or not to stay and make it work or go.

And you would think that with all my talk the decision would have come easy to me. But I�ve been doing a lot of thinking (even before the illness) and I think�that I best stay where I am at.

I mean, he�s not a great husband, but he�s not the worst. He�s a great father. He says he loves me.

And look at me � seriously � a woman getting older, with an autistic son and a small daughter. I am certainly no prize on the looks or personality department.

So I sold part of my soul to the devil this weekend and agreed to make it work.

I thought I would feel sad � but surprisingly enough I feel nothing at all.

But that could be the medication talking.

9:24 a.m. - March 14, 2005

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