I think the past few weeks have been trying to kill us.
After the saga of my in-law's visit and all three of us getting sick at once, we've been dealing with things like health insurance problems, humiliating myself at Mops after a rare case of word vomit, a difficult well-check for Gracie, and our realtor retiring and forgetting to tell us.
And then on Thursday, I had the first inklings of another migraine. It hit me hard Friday morning, and by the afternoon it had morphed into vertigo. I found my anti-vertigo medicine just as I was getting to the point where I was going to start throwing up and not be able to stop. I started feeling a little better, but I woke up Saturday worse than ever. James had to work an illegal amount of hours both days, so I was stuck at home with a toddler while completely unable to hold my balance or walk in a straight line, not to mention that the migraine still hadn't left. By Sunday, I realized this was probably more than a migraine and vertigo when I was so weak I couldn't get out of bed, random parts of my body were tingling, I had shooting pains in my legs, and a host of other strange symptoms. I spent the entire day in bed, staring at the wall because my brain was in such a fog I felt like I couldn't think. Every time I tried to fall asleep, the neighbor kids would start screaming outside, or Gracie would scream downstairs. My only saving grace was that James was watching Gracie, cooking, cleaning, bringing me meals and medicine so I could stay in bed, and even went to the library to replenish my book stash. He is a saint. But mostly because he made a late night emergency donut run.
I woke up Monday feeling a little stronger yet sicker than ever. The room was spinning wildly and was getting worse by the minute. I took some more vertigo medicine, but it only helped a little. I can count on one hand the times I've said "I need to go to the doctor," and this was one of them. I have massive doctor anxiety, and I would rather die at home than drag myself to a waiting room to a hear a doctor tell me what I probably already know. By 9:30, James was already leaving work to take care of me since I was shivering on the living room floor while Gracie drove her 1980s Fisher Price plastic tractor on my head. I called my doctor only to be told (and please read this in the pretentious french accent of Michel from Gilmore Girls) "I'm sorry, but we are completely booked." Also, my mom who was supposed to be on the way to visit, texted me and said her car wouldn't start.
Cue all the tears.
I wound up in urgent care, and thankfully a kind nurse let me lie down in a dark back room so I didn't have to stay in the waiting room. I waited there for an hour while the bottom half of me was cold and the top half of me was hot, my face was tingling, and my right ear was hot. The doctor eventually walked in, asked me three or four separate times if I have a rash or a runny nose, listened to nothing that I said, told me I have a virus and I'll probably be sick for another week, and then handed me a prescription for the exact medicine I told her three times I've been taking and it's not helping.
Cue all the tears.
James was able to stay home for a few more hours so I could rest. When James left to go to work tonight, Gracie threw herself on the floor in despair and cried for ten minutes. She was not the only one upset to see him go. Gracie and I struggled through a difficult few hours before bedtime, and then James called from work to say he's sick too. While I'm still quite dizzy, I'm feeling a little better tonight. Which is actually bad news, because I guess now I have to go to my dentist appointment tomorrow morning.
Cue all the tears.