San Francisco 49ers v Carolina Panthers

Pneumonia? Are You Serious?

So, I have pneumonia. Which is dumb.

I had a fever for a few days and finally dragged myself into Urgent Care. With two kids in tow. You can imagine the fun.

I mean, I probably shouldn’t have even been driving with a fever that high. So I was only capable of mildly fussing at my small people as they sprawled all over the exam room floor (Yes, I know that’s disgusting. I felt disgusted inside, but I didn’t have the energy to figure out a solution.)

The doctor asked if I’d taken anything for my fever, which I hadn’t because I wanted him to see just how high it was.

“Can I give you some Ibuprofen, super high dose?” he asked. (Yes. Yes you can. It’s not like I’m enjoying this fever here.)

Then he told me about the meds he was going to give me for my pneumonia. He said they were a VERY high dosage, but he’d almost always seen them work up until now. He was sure that in the future, they wouldn’t work because the viruses would develop immunity to them. But for now they’d probably work. (That’s encouraging. I think.)

But if they don’t work in two days, I need to go to the ER. (Yay me!)

And then he gave me all the cautions about the meds. He said, “Now, don’t exercise while taking these.”

Even in my semi-delirious state, I laughed and assured him I wouldn’t be doing any exercising. Exercising? I’ve barely been out of bed for the past few days.

And Isaiah, who had already been talking the whole time the doctor talked, at that point said, “Yeah, my mommy doesn’t exercise.” (Thanks, Son.)

So, now I’m medicated and resting and staying hydrated, but not with anything dairy, because my super high-dosage pills don’t like dairy.

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San Francisco 49ers v Carolina Panthers

Respect the Kids

Whenever your kids have a meltdown because they can’t have an extra piece of candy, or because you asked them to pick up their play-doh, or because putting on their shoes (slip-on kind) is such an overwhelming task…. If you’re anything like me, you roll your eyes and sarcastically comment to yourself, “It must be REALLY hard to be 3!” (or whatever the respective age of the Whiner may be).

This past week, I’ve kind of been compelled to eat my words. Turns out, it might be harder to be a kid than I thought.

We visited my husband’s family in Arkansas for the holidays and about halfway through our trip, my ear plugged up. I was mildly annoyed. Then it started to throb with pain, which led me to become increasingly… distraught.

I filled myself up with sinus meds and attempted to sleep it off. Eventually I awoke, due to feeling like an atom bomb had exploded in my eardrum. I stumbled into the kitchen to find Chris. He said, “How are you feeling?” and I started bawling… in front of his whole family. Now, I’m not a big crier and it usually only occurs if God is touching my heart, or if I’m dying. This crying was due to the latter.

On the 30 minute drive to MedExpress, I deliriously hypothesized about my diagnosis. “It’s just an ear infection,” I said. “They’ll just give me Amoxicillan like they do for the kids,” I said. “I’ll be all better in 24-hours, just like the kids,” I said.


The doctor looked in my ear and, being the master of understatement, said, “Looks a little tender in there.” He then gave me 5 prescriptions: everything from antibiotics to steroids to ear drops (valued at $130). I was starting to realize that my dreams of being right as rain in 24-hours might be shooting a little high.

And a week later? I’m still not right as rain. Oh, the pain is gone (Thank You Jesus), but my ear has apparently decided to remain permanently stopped up, dizziness has become normal, and I’d really prefer to go to bed at 8:30 pm each night. Not to mention the never ending ear drops, which I wouldn’t exactly call pleasant.

Seriously, this whole ear infection thing is not the quick heal my kids played it up to be. If I’d known it was this rough, I’d have given them a little more respect. Like I said, maybe it’s harder being a kid than I thought.

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