At what point do you give up? After your ass has been thoroughly kicked while you made a few half-hearted punches? Giving up is hard, I'm no quitter. Or at least I wasn't always. When my ankle was broken and they told me I had to have surgery and massive amounts of titanium put in place of the bone, I said Bullshit! Not my ankle! Slap a cast on the puppy and I'll be on my way. Seriously. I'm not having surgery. I'm just not. Turns out I had it done anyways thanks to my mom who said shut up, you are too.
Or when I first knew I was sick, I wasn't really sick, it was something I ate, it was a bug going round it was anything but me being seriously sick. Give me some Gatorade and I'll be fine. Thus began the first of many trips to the ER on which I would be released in about 5 days, obviously not sick, they wouldn't let me out if I was sick right? I'm mean I'd be dead or something. Something anything but sick.
Today and this weekend I feel like shit progressively worse each day. It must be a bug, a urinary tract infection, I took my medicine at a different time than normal. Anything but a complication. 'Cause if I were REALLY sick I wouldn't be blogging. The dryer wouldn't be spinning full of clean clothes. The dishwasher wouldn't have been emptied, the trash can would still be on the curb. And for God's sake I have make-up on! So I sit here ignoring my body which is protesting my mind. I went to meet friends for coffee and stopped by mom's house, see.. not sick. It's just fatigue and a tummy ache.
So I'm going to fold clothes and wait for the Dr's office to call back with last week's lab work. Sorry if you came looking for a chuckle today, I'm not feeling very inspired.