My mind is a seriously dangerous place when I get this way.

Being sick is the worst. I’m one of those people who can’t just shut down and be sick…but have to instead agonize over every little thing that needs to get done, get said, be accomplished….sit around trapped inside a shell that can’t…but must. But doesn’t. I can’t imagine the thoughts of those who deal with this on a regular basis, that are battling more than a cold or flu. God forbid something terminal. The sheer hell that their brains must put them through, especially knowing that there’s no “normal” in sight to return.
Jesus. On that bright note….
I have been sick going on nine days now. That doesn’t include a brief stomach flu stint that I had a week prior to getting sick. Originally I was put on antibiotics for a respiratory/sinus infection. Now I’m being treated for bronchial pneumonia. It was my birthday present this year. Happy being an old lady day…here’s the sick. The gift that keeps on giving. I got some good birthday swag, don’t get me wrong, and had a great dinner with the kids juuuuuust before things got really unbearable, but the sick was the big whopper. Hopefully I get a do-over. Wait, one birthday a year for me is plenty. I’ll pass. Maybe I’ll just devote one day to myself and spoil the shit out of me and anyone else who wants to come along for the ride. Because I can. And in this state of sick depression and sitting around thinking about how horrible everything in my life is, it’s not. And I need to stop feeling sorry for myself. I need this satanic bacteria that has crept in my chest, my brain, to leave and let me get back to normal. For whatever normal is worth.

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