Showing posts with label sick and tired. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sick and tired. Show all posts

Monday, October 12, 2009

Lunch is a Battlefield

Lately, I've been lacking in kitchen inspiration.  I used to watch hours of the Food Network and I looked forward to experimenting with new recipes and flavors, but now not so much.  Food is totally unappealing to me as an activity. Sure, I want to eat it, but I'm really tired of having to prepare it. I'm tired of trying to figure out how to cook within a reasonable budget while keeping three divergent  appetites happy. You see, although creativity is usually aided by loose guidelines, my list of dietary restrictions is so long that I feel trapped inside a box full of boneless chicken and steamed peas.

My husband is not supposed to eat red meat, dairy or other high fat foods. Aaron also needs to carefully monitor his balance of soluble and insoluble fiber. He has IBS. My daughter would gratefully eat fresh fruit and steamed veggies all day long with a side of buttered bread and a slice of cheese, but she's not so keen on anything that once had a face.  In fact, she's anti-protein in general.  No beans please.

Another problem is that my husband needs to eat plain starchy foods to help with his digestion. The child sees the rice or white bread and says, screw all of this other food, I want the carbs. Oh, and Aaron has borderline eating disorder type food issues to begin with, so some days it takes every ounce of my creativity to prevent him from gorging himself on cheeseburgers or pizza.  I don't expect Violet to have a handle on good food choices, but it would make my life a hell of a lot easier if her father did. Our biggest fights are over food, because no amount of suffering is too great to come between my Aaron and a quarter-pounder with cheese.  We only have one bathroom gentle readers, so when my husband has an IBS attack, the whole house pays for it.

Violet also suffers from garden variety childhood food anxieties, like food mixing and touching and not looking like she remembers it looking. Today I made soup. Soup makes for a stressful lunch because all the food is mixed together.  Even when I make an effort to ladle chunks of familiar veggies onto her plate Violet dissolves into terrified tears. This afternoon it was celery that had her in a tizzy. The celery was touching the carrots and the potatoes on her plate and she not only didn't want to eat them, but she was scared that she might eat them by accident unless she picked up each piece of vegetable with her fingers.

 Last week, I snapped. I opened a can of Spaghettios because I was just too tired to think about making something else. All kids love Spaghettios, right?  They are relatively nutritious and probably not habit forming. What harm is there in one can?

Violet refused them. She wouldn't even taste them. I made her sit in her chair for two hours; cold lumpy Os in front of her, because I was determined not to lose face.  When she fell asleep at the table I quietly emptied her bowl into the trash and then woke her up to congratulate her for eating her lunch like a good girl.  Her little face was so relieved and only slightly bewildered.  I'm sure she thought the naughty kitten had come to her rescue, but she wasn't about to let on.  I was embarrassed that I had punished her for what amounted to sound dietary judgment.  It was a banner day.

I'm tired folks. So, very tired.  Ideas?

Sunday, March 8, 2009

Noise

I am partially deaf right now.  Specifically, I am suffering from conductive hearing loss.  The sounds that actually reach my brain are warbly and distorted and fighting for space with the all the noises that the inside of my head makes during the course of the day.  In case you didn't know, the inside of your head sounds like a much duller, less fun version of a conch shell held up to a fully functional ear, plus the sounds of blood pumping and food chewing etc.  There is NO silence. 

I am accustomed to a certain level of noise in my life.  I live on a busy street and I hear all manner of traffic and people.  My brain simply filters these sounds out and moves on.  Now that my ear drums are swollen and infected,  my brain cannot make sense of the sounds they are conducting to my cochlear nerve. So, for the past couple of days my brain has been grasping at straws, so to speak.  When I am up and moving and engaging in my world, I can ignore my brain's attempts to turn the sound of blood pumping/cars speeding past into music.  At night, when I am trying to sleep, I am powerless to stop my brain from rummaging through the files looking for an answer to the question, "What IS that noise?"

Here's the real problem. 

I have a musical toaster.  I bought it on a whim, at Big Lots.  I was having a bad day (why else would I need a new toaster) and it cheered me up.   When the toast pops it plays the Waltz from Cinderella.  I fully expected the music to poop out after a few months, but it's going strong 12 months later.  So what?

My husband often eats a piece of toast when he comes home from work at night.  I am almost always on the verge of falling asleep when The Waltz starts to play.  Now, my damaged and foggy brain can come up with nothing else to play in my head when the noises get funky.  When I lay down to sleep I hear a 10 second snippet of The Waltz played over and over and over again.  At first, I thought my husband was making toast, only to find him asleep beside me.  Mind you, if he WERE making toast downstairs in the kitchen, I would NOT be able to hear the actual toaster from my bed. 

Sigh.



Saturday, March 7, 2009

Bad Bad Bad

It would seem that my future as an abuser of prescription pain killers is in serious jeopardy.  After a brief love affair with Mr. Vicodin, things have turned sour. 

Apparently, some people react VERY badly to Vicodin.  I am one of those people.  So, now I am playing a daredevil game of how much ear pain can I handle before I am willing to start vomiting again.  The vomiting makes it really hard to swallow amoxicillin three times a day, so for now I am back to ibuprofen. As great as the Vicodin high was, the antibiotics are really my only hope for ever feeling better.

This whole cycle of crippling nausea is way too reminiscent of my pregnancy.  Birth control refilled, no extra charge.

Friday, March 6, 2009

Ninja Flu: Update

Well, call MythBusters.  I have confirmed that adults DO in fact get ear infections. I listened to your kind advice and made a doctor's appointment, but alas I couldn't wait.  I was in the ER at midnight.  The throbbing in my head was so constant and so loud that I thought someone was pacing with heavy feet up and down my hallway. By the time I got to triage, I was able to rate my pain at a 7, without exaggeration. After that I only had to wait 2 1/2 hours to see the doctor. Only.

Thank goodness Violet had been sent to Grandma's and Aaron was able to escort me to our fine hospital.  The waiting room TV was playing a relentless string of infomercials and my husband's running commentary kept my spirits up.  Of course, he practically had to shout so that I could hear him and thereby entertained a few other guests as well.

I really sold it in triage, what with my pain level and the double doses of Nyquil and ibuprofen I had taken without effect.  I got in ahead of the dude who had been in a bar fight, bloody skull and all.  I also beat out the two trashy gossip girls who showed no visible signs of illness or injury, other than a clinical lack of ambition in life.

In the exam room, I saw the billing lady a full ten minutes before the doctor.  The room was equipped for ENT emergencies and the labels on the drawers said horrifying things like, "Nasal Tampon", "Tongue Blade" and "Eye Speculum."  Thankfully, the doctor needed only to look inside my ears to make a quick diagnosis.

DOUBLE. EAR. INFECTION.

Tonight's blog post is brought to you by a heavy dose of antibiotics and my best friend, Mr. Vicodan.
I have a new found sympathy for children who are cursed with recurrent ear infections. This sucks ass. As do homeopathic ear pain relief drops, but that's neither here nor there.

Thursday, March 5, 2009

Ninja Flu

I have been fighting the good fight against this demonic virus for nearly a week.  On Tuesday, I thought I was getting better. Yesterday, I slowed down a bit and by days end my nose was totally non-functional.  This morning I was jarred awake by the distinct sensation of a tiny Ninja Army hurling their throwing stars into my inner ear.  As of this momemt, I cannot taste, smell or hear anything.  I would not be a bit surprised if tomorrow I woke up blind.

I've been told that adults don't get ear infections.  If this isn't an ear infection, then I must have a tumor.  Or perhaps my brain is finally (and audibly) cracking up. 

Heap your sympathies and ear ache remedies upon me gentle readers. Quick. At the rate I'm going I won't be able to read your comments much longer.

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

Wardrobe Wednesday

Before I succumbed to the *Ninja Flu, I managed a Mommies Only thrift store shopping spree with my friend Monica. 

Monica had not visited my go-to store in a quite some time, due to her husband's concern for her personal safety.  Men have no idea what lengths women will go to for a bargain.  20 cent kid shirts are worth the mugging risk. 

Anyway. Here is my best find.  It cost $1.50.  I know. I'm a big spender.

 
  
 

*It's called the Ninja Flu because it sneaks up on you and you have no idea how sick you are until you try to go upstairs for a pee and find yourself needing to lie down.

Friday, February 20, 2009

Distracting Myself

I am on nurse duty. The husband is sick. He is busy sweating all over the sheets I just washed through a fever.  I am on my best behavior and trying not to resent him, because after all it's not his fault he got sick.  I am just a terrible nurse.

I had no intention of moaning about my Florence Nightingale complex when I started this post. My whole point was to show you yesterday's  Project 365 photo.  I was trying to distract myself with cute and I failed.

Anywho.  Here is a little buddy from Violet's preschool co-op. His mama was on teaching duty, so I followed him around with my camera. It kept us both out of trouble.

*Perhaps the library could do a little dusting now and then. Just sayin'.

Thursday, January 1, 2009

I'm Still NOT Making Resolutions

So, the Winter Solstice is supposed to be the celebration of the returning light and yet come New Year's Day I feel blah. I feel as if the light will NEVER return. There is nothing to look forward, but cold. I sit huddled in front of my computer trying to absorb some warmth from the bandwidth. A year ago, I dealt with my restlessness by potty training the child and starting a blog. I know, I've already told the whole of the interwebs that I do not make resolutions, but I may need to take on a project while I hibernate.

A project is NOT a resolution. There is nothing resolute about a project. Projects can go on forever and wither and revive and never fail.  It's the failure part of resolutions that make them so unappealing to me. It's also why I never set goals. Goals are kryptonite to my rebel soul, but a project makes me stronger.

Give me a project. Yeah, I'm talkin' to you. I won't promise to do it (promises are a bit resolute), but I will take all suggestions under consideration and thank you kindly for them.

Go on. How often does someone ask you to tell them what to do?

Monday, November 24, 2008

Diagnosis: Ick

When I am suffering from non-specific yuck (symptoms may include achiness, crankiness and the inability to extricate oneself from the couch), I reach for a very unconventional remedy. Hoop skirts.



Do not ask me why, but when the funk sets in I bust out the 19th century epics. First I watch Little Women, so that I can detoxify with a good involuntary cry (it's just like an enema for your heart). Then, I move on to Gone With the Wind, so that I can remind myself that things could be much worse. I could be having my leg amputated by candlelight without the benefit pain killers. This movie really helped put my unwanted c-section into perspective for me. If I make it to Oklahoma without intervention I feel purged of the evil and ready for the next phase of recovery. Baking. The lunch baskets in Oklahoma make a girl want to put something in the oven!

What do you do to make yourself feel better?

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