What a crazy last couple of weeks.
I have concocted a theory that my body rejected peace and quiet and alone time like a donor organ because the day following my much touted "Kerri Day" began the worst two weeks of my life.
It started with a headache that spread into the world's most painful double outer ear infection. I have never been in so much pain. Never. I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy - or even John Lithgow.
I would honestly rather be strung upside down and whipped WHILE in labor with twins than ever go through that again.
The ear infection led to cellulitus in my face and neck and my ears swelling shut completely - so much so that they had to insert a wick to get the medication in. I know. It's gross. I could have been a TLC special.
"Woman Without Ears"
I spent a solid two weeks bed ridden with a heating pad on one side of my head while ear drops soaked in the other.
After starting page 3 of my medications spreadsheet, I realized that this is what it would feel like to be 80 years old. I can tell you, it's not fun.
Golden years, they are not. They're more of a mustard yellow.
At the height of my misery, I spent over an hour in Memorial Hospital's ER on one of the busiest nights they've ever had. They had just had 4 helicopters land and it was apparently a bum sleepover.
I finally decided to go to Community Hospital's ER instead after watching one lady dry heave for an hour, then ask to bum a smoke.
It was just too much to bear that AND to sit next to a shifty-eyed gangster who suspiciously wouldn't take his right hand out of the waist of his coat.
I'd rather die of an ear infection than a gun shot.
Commmunity wasn't much better, though it was empty. The check in window was fogged over. The nurse had zebra nails. They had a dot-matrix printer. I think they made my hospital bracelet out of dry noodles and scotch tape.
I really realized why it was empty when they walked me down the hallway to my room (Which hadn't been cleaned from the previous patient) and noted the mint green tile walls.
**NOTE: Mint green tile walls are never a good sign. The only times I can recall seeing mint green tile walls are in movies that involve
a)zombies, b)serial killers, c)haunted, empty hospitals of torture.**
They did give me good meds there.I didn't even know Advil came in 800mgs.
This was helpful to drown out the blood curdling screams of the lady down the hall who was being brought in by an army of cops while she shouted, "They busted my ******* face with a ******* flashlight!"
The nurse felt it time to tell me that this was the hospital for the mental institution and the county jail.
I was really glad to go home.
So, in the days following, I have been seeing a specialist. Thank goodness. He has helped me immensely. I have nothing but praise for him. The only comical thing about him, though, is that he REALLY wears one of those headbands with the big metalic circle thing that I've only ever seen cartoon doctors wear. I didn't even know they were real.
So now, after 7 prescriptions, 3 trips to the doctor, one trip to urgent care, 2 different ERs, 3 trips to the specialist and 2 weeks worth bed rest...I'm proud to say I'm rejoining the land of the living. Slowly.
It's a good thing because I was teetering dangerously close to looking like Shrek.
I'm glad that I know for a fact that should I ever become seriously ill and NOT be able to take care of myself, I can count on my BFF Lisa to fly to the U.S. just to do things like pluck unruly hairs and keep my legs shaved. I'll never be fully let go. It's important to have an "In-case-of-emergency-Plucker" in your life.
So yesterday I got a haircut, I painted my nails, and I put on the ever important under-eye-conceiler.
I'm practically as good as new.
I still can't hear out of my right ear all the way, but I'm trying to figure out why that might not just be a GOOD thing. I can't hear my name being called a hundred times. I can't hear Chloe shouting, "NO TESSA!" I can't hear the alarm. I can't hear the phone call that will tell me that my car warranty is about to expire.
All good as far as I can tell.
And I learned that the family really CAN do things on their own. I don't have to cook every dinner for them to survive. The world will not crumble if Mommy needs a nap.
They all pulled together and got stuff done. My mom and Justin were champions.
Life can go on without Mommy there to do it all every second of the day. That's a lesson I really did need to learn. It's the knowledge I'd eluded for so long that had driven the original Kerri Day to be so needed.
This tells me another Kerri Day may be just around the corner. And a well deserved one at that.