I don't feel well. I don't have cancer. Our friend Carlo, a nice man and great baseball coach who's been fantastic with Angus has cancer. Susan from Toddler Planet has cancer. Patti's friend Denise has cancer. I'm just having a little go-round with the frailty of the body, and discovering that 'mind over matter' is largely a wagonload of horseshit, and it's unpleasant. I've had something respiratory sucking the energy out of me since January, and now something I'm taking for that -- my inhaler or the antibiotics or the cough stuff I take at night -- is making me unable to keep any food down for the majority of the day, and unable to move without feeling dizzy and really nauseous before I throw everything up. The kids are kind of worried and freaked out and I feel guilty about the stuff I can't do with them and frustrated and a little scared because I know it's probably nothing major but it's just so weird and I can't figure out what I should stop taking, or if I should just try not eating, and I felt like I was wrecking our long p.d. day-family day weekend. And really sick people feel like this for months at a time and I can't even imagine that -- except today I can, and it's scary.
So I had breakfast, then curled up in my chair feeling miserable for a while, then threw up breakfast, then laid down. The kids came home from baseball and Eve got back into her feet pajamas and tucked herself in beside me to read Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing while I dozed. She read me funny parts and patted my back when I coughed and once she giggled and said my tummy sounded funny. At the end of the book (spoiler alert) Fudge the little brother swallows Peter's (the big brother's) turtle, and everyone's really worried about Fudge and not about the turtle, and Eve was extremely indignant on behalf of Peter and the turtle. I could see her point. My husband went grocery shopping and came home and said he was broiling steaks and I couldn't stop him (because yesterday he was going to try to make hamburgers in the oven, and I stopped him). Then I got up and our next door neighbour came over to play with Eve so Matt and I watched Terminator 2 with Angus. And there was this elevator scene where the kid hands his mother a new ammo cartridge and Angus said "how sweet. The mother and son that know how to reload guns together", which was awesome because I was about to say the exact same thing.
You know where I'm going with this, right? I know -- how annoying is it that just when I'm about to work up a great load of self-pity, my kids are all charming and funny and telling me they love me every five minutes and they hope I stop barfing, especially when they can hear because that's, like, really disgusting.
How's your week-end going?