I’ve been in hiding for the last week or so.
It’s hard to describe how truly awful I feel right now, and I feel like nobody wants to hear it or cares.
You see, I feel bad all the time, so when I feel REALLY bad, it just seems like overkill.
But then when I think about it, I don’t complain or actually tell people how I really feel, because I don’t want to share that kind of information with most people, because most people aren’t actually really interested in me as a person. They’re interested in appearing nice and saying hello and all of that, but I have found that most people are interested in being POLITE and FRIENDLY, but not in actually being a real friend.
Which in a round about way brings me to two Sundays ago when I dropped a BOMBSHELL on my Sunday School class by pointing out that “not being mean” is not the same thing at all as “being nice”. Blew. Their. Minds.
At any rate, I have been in hiding for a week because I feel like crap. And yesterday, as I was standing in line at the grocery store, I just about died. In one fell swoop, I was feverish, my legs stopped working, and I had to hold on the cart for dear life. I was shaking so badly that I dropped my purse, and had to have the cashier take my card out of my wallet. I couldn’t breathe, I could hardly walk out of the store, and it took everything in my power to just. make it. home. And did I mention that my tongue stopped working? And that I had drool coming out of my mouth for a good portion of yesterday? It was bad. It was a bad day.
It was also hot, so I don’t know if there’s any kind of correlation with the temperature, or if it was something else… basically, my body freaked out for a good 8 hours yesterday, just for kicks.
But today? Today I’m fine.
I wish I could say the same for my kids.
I didn’t realize how much this was affecting them until this morning.
They’re worried about me.
They’re worried about whether or not they can take care of me.
And it sucks. Because if I’m not at the bus stop, my kids shouldn’t have to worry about WHY I’m not there. They shouldn’t come in the door, and find me laying on the couch, and offer to get me my medicine.
They’re great. They’re fabulous kids…. but they’re just kids. And their dad is gone on business right now. And Thaddeus thinks that he has to take care of me, and he has had two bad days at school, because of me. Because he is worried about me, and worried about things he can’t control. So he’s trying to control everything else. And he can’t. And he’s getting upset. And I’m getting upset. Because it SUCKS. It sucks really, really bad that my 7 year old can’t just be SEVEN.
And right now? I really, really hate this disease.
