I don't want to read. I don't want to sew. I don't want to bead. I don't want to teach. I don't want to dance. Nothing sounds good to eat. I don't want to type. I didn't want to go to church. I don't even want to surf the WWW - which is very strange. I don't want to go to bible study. When I barfed a week ago Saturday till I thought I was going to die, I must have barfed out my soul. I did do a scalp wash yesterday, but I hardly have the energy to pin my hair back. This hair is very lackadaisical. At least the circles under my eyes are gone, but I don't know when my husband is going to ever kiss me again after hearing me retch my guts out followed by diarrhea at the other end. The door in the travel trailer provides as much privacy as a plastic curtain.
Then to add insult to injury, in the emergency room the doctor asks if I can keep Tylenol down for the fever (I couldn't) so he tells the nurse, "Give her the suppository," and he walks out. My eyes, boing!, open up and I said I want to take those pills now, only I'm so weak no one can hear a thing I say. I got, ugh, a suppository.
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