Sicker Than Dog Shit

I am officially sicker than dog shit. I don't really like dogs, other than a few here and there, and I definitely don't like dog shit, especially in my yard. I mean, there's other stuff sicker than dog shit, but I don't want to compare myself to some of the sick stuff out there, and I don't want to make fun of some of the seriously sick stuff, like radiation or rape-as-a-war-crime. So I'll just go with dog shit.

Bronchitis is what I've been diagnosed with, although Guy #1 has me questioning my doctor now because the doctor didn't take any blood to check any of my levels, only listened to me breathe twice, didn't take a urine sample, so on and so forth. This is the danger of dating an firefighter and EMT, I suppose. Yes, my doctor is Canadian, so there is some stuff that he will probably cut corners on, like my health, but I can get an appointment on the same day with no wait! Where else can you do that in the metro area? And no receptionist triaging on the phone when I call! But I am sure that as soon as Guy #1 reads this, he will point out that there is probably a correlation between the level of care received and the fact that I can always get an appointment right away. I actually feel like this might be pneumonia, which I've had before and thought was going to kill me, but I'm hoping this isn't it. The pneumonia was bad enough, but then I got extra panicky about drowning in myself every time I was drifting off to sleep and that certainly didn't help. I've taken two doses of my medication and don't feel much better. In fact, I feel worse. Chills, horrible body aches and pains, fever, developing the runs (which I think is from the Gatorade I've been drinking because Guy #1 squeezed my fingernails and told me I was a little dehydrated).

But I'm going to make it. Monday the school called and I had to pick up the older daughter because she was sick, and I was headed that way, myself. I was PISSED when we got home and she informed me that Mrs. Second Grade Teacher sent homework home to do that night. Okay, if you're too sick to be at school, wouldn't you think you'd be too sick to do homework? So, because I was feeling like dog shit, we didn't do the homework and I let her stay home on Tuesday. I am pretty sure she could have gone back to school with no problems, because she never ran a fever, but we didn't have the homework done. Uber aunt brought dinner over on Tuesday evening and did the homework, and she went back to school today. And Mrs. Second Grade Teacher sent home extra homework tonight. I was tempted to staple all the extra homework together with a picture of my ass right on top of it, and circle which dimple on my ass she can kiss. But I'm pretty sure that won't go over well. And the younger daughter had a note in her book bag saying that kindergartners will start having homework next week, too.

Simply fucking awesome. I'm lucky to get two and a half hours of time with my children every night (not counting the Mondays I have to work late and my mom babysits, and every Thursday night when the children are with their father until eight o'clock), and the quality of that is questionable because I'm trying to cook a halfway decent meal, clean up the kitchen, direct the homework without actually doing it myself, back up book bags and lunchboxes, and get everyone into bed by eight-thirty. I know this will get easier as they get older, but damn. Guy #1 is of the opinion that I need to call The Ex and explain to him how fucking sick I am and tell him in no uncertain terms that he needs to step up to the plate, and I absolutely refuse. When we were married and I got sick, I felt guilty that he had to handle everything. This was probably because I knew he wasn't doing the job as well as I would have, and probably because he made me feel guilty by asking shit like, "How much longer are you going to be sick?" or "I would have done such-and-such but I thought it would just be better to leave it for you because you do it so much better than me." So this is the first time I think I haven't actually felt guilty about being sick in years, and it feels good. I am not going to invite this man back into my life to make me feel guilty. I would rather crawl into the kitchen on my hands and knees to pack up lunches than ask for his help.

So maybe an update in the next few days. Love to everyone for their thoughts and offers to help out.