Saris and Head Colds (updated)
(update: I have just noticed, not that my brain is more functional, that this post is approx 11,000 words long. I am hiding most of it beneath the jump, because otherwise I have just spammed everyone with bitching about my sinuses. Sorry, everyone...)
I had a wonderful post all planned out, really I did. It was going to be about Divali and how I wish I had a chance to celebrate it, and how every time I stare in the mirror at my slowly changing body, as it ages and as an entire year of nursing school slowly but surely kicks the crap out of it, I wish I could get away with wearing saris instead.
Then I got sick. It is "just" a head-cold, which for me is more like 72 hours of cold and flu all wrapped up into fun. Here's how it happened:
My body, rather predictably, is doing a crash-and-burn. My break between quarters was insanely busy, mostly with school-related matters (which hardly makes it a break.) This was followed immediately by 5 weeks of: clinicals Monday, school all day Tuesday (8 am - 5 pm, with instructors angry at you because you're not paying good attention after 7 hours of lecture), school half-day Wednesday (the morning is free! quickly--to the washing machines!), work all day Thursday, homework/studying all day Friday, clinicals on Saturday (12 hours long, at a hospital an hour away), Sundays mostly taken up my frantic attempts at homework interspersed with dish-washing and clothes-folding and bill-paying and all those sorts of things that don't just happen on their own.
During any not-school time I've been trying to sleep, or do homework, or just crying. Lots of crying. OK, I may have cried in class a time or 4 as well. And yes, I apparently also have a husband, who's been gone every weekend for a job, which means when he's home he wants Quality Time and Lots Of It. This means sex, of course. A few weeks ago, hopped up on PMS and beer, I told him if wanted sex that bad, I was fine with it, but only if we maintained some sort of position in bed that allowed me to continue my online exam on my laptop while he entertained himself. Apparently that was a Not Sexy idea. D:
So, all that is finally done (no more clinicals until January!!), and I had a wonderful relaxing weekend ahead of me, to be filled with writing and posting and resting and watching Bollywood on the Netflix. (I will accept recommendations, as I know absolutely nothing about Bollywood.)
Instead, my body decided now was the time to recharge, or to make me repent my poor treatment of it. I got home from work yesterday, developed a head cold, crawled into bed feeling sorry for myself (husband still out of town, so I was *forced* to make my own tea, in the microwave no less--that's how bad I was feeling), and then proceeded to shiver with a fever for 6 hours. I had thai food and various thai drinks delivered from a noodle joint 1.5 blocks down the street, just because I wanted someone else to bring me tea.
Finally, around midnight, I collapsed into something like an exhausted sleep. I was wearing woolen pajamas, 7 blankets, and a knitted hat on my head.
At 2 am I work up with the worst acid reflux I've ever had. Apparently I am aging, because this happens now. I spent the next 2 hours gulping down Tums and Pepto-Bismo. 7 Tums and 4 PB did nothing, BTW. It was fine as long as I sat bolt upright at 90 degrees--anything less and it felt like I was having a heart attack. (Note: I work on a cardiac floor, so I know the difference, thank Gawd.) It is also very hard to sleep bolt upright. I passed the time by crying in pain and exhaustion. Every time I dozed off, I would slump a little, and then the reflux came back. Around 4 am it went away enough for me to sleep at a 70 degree angle in bed, all propped up with pillows.
At 8 am this morning, I woke up covered in hives.
So ha ha body, I guess I hate you too, and I will try to be nicer to you in the future? Whatevs. I am now fortified with popsicles and cold cereal and tea, and am returning to my blankets. Perhaps tomorrow I will write about saris and cultural appropriation by white chicks mad at how much weight they have put on. Or maybe about Downton Abbey. For the mean time, I'm so sorry I never responded to comments from two weeks ago: they cheered me up enormously, thank you all, but every time I thought about P&P (or anything else not school-related) I would burst into tears, which was probably not what you wanted by way of thanks.
I had a wonderful post all planned out, really I did. It was going to be about Divali and how I wish I had a chance to celebrate it, and how every time I stare in the mirror at my slowly changing body, as it ages and as an entire year of nursing school slowly but surely kicks the crap out of it, I wish I could get away with wearing saris instead.
Then I got sick. It is "just" a head-cold, which for me is more like 72 hours of cold and flu all wrapped up into fun. Here's how it happened:
My body, rather predictably, is doing a crash-and-burn. My break between quarters was insanely busy, mostly with school-related matters (which hardly makes it a break.) This was followed immediately by 5 weeks of: clinicals Monday, school all day Tuesday (8 am - 5 pm, with instructors angry at you because you're not paying good attention after 7 hours of lecture), school half-day Wednesday (the morning is free! quickly--to the washing machines!), work all day Thursday, homework/studying all day Friday, clinicals on Saturday (12 hours long, at a hospital an hour away), Sundays mostly taken up my frantic attempts at homework interspersed with dish-washing and clothes-folding and bill-paying and all those sorts of things that don't just happen on their own.
During any not-school time I've been trying to sleep, or do homework, or just crying. Lots of crying. OK, I may have cried in class a time or 4 as well. And yes, I apparently also have a husband, who's been gone every weekend for a job, which means when he's home he wants Quality Time and Lots Of It. This means sex, of course. A few weeks ago, hopped up on PMS and beer, I told him if wanted sex that bad, I was fine with it, but only if we maintained some sort of position in bed that allowed me to continue my online exam on my laptop while he entertained himself. Apparently that was a Not Sexy idea. D:
So, all that is finally done (no more clinicals until January!!), and I had a wonderful relaxing weekend ahead of me, to be filled with writing and posting and resting and watching Bollywood on the Netflix. (I will accept recommendations, as I know absolutely nothing about Bollywood.)
Instead, my body decided now was the time to recharge, or to make me repent my poor treatment of it. I got home from work yesterday, developed a head cold, crawled into bed feeling sorry for myself (husband still out of town, so I was *forced* to make my own tea, in the microwave no less--that's how bad I was feeling), and then proceeded to shiver with a fever for 6 hours. I had thai food and various thai drinks delivered from a noodle joint 1.5 blocks down the street, just because I wanted someone else to bring me tea.
Finally, around midnight, I collapsed into something like an exhausted sleep. I was wearing woolen pajamas, 7 blankets, and a knitted hat on my head.
At 2 am I work up with the worst acid reflux I've ever had. Apparently I am aging, because this happens now. I spent the next 2 hours gulping down Tums and Pepto-Bismo. 7 Tums and 4 PB did nothing, BTW. It was fine as long as I sat bolt upright at 90 degrees--anything less and it felt like I was having a heart attack. (Note: I work on a cardiac floor, so I know the difference, thank Gawd.) It is also very hard to sleep bolt upright. I passed the time by crying in pain and exhaustion. Every time I dozed off, I would slump a little, and then the reflux came back. Around 4 am it went away enough for me to sleep at a 70 degree angle in bed, all propped up with pillows.
At 8 am this morning, I woke up covered in hives.
So ha ha body, I guess I hate you too, and I will try to be nicer to you in the future? Whatevs. I am now fortified with popsicles and cold cereal and tea, and am returning to my blankets. Perhaps tomorrow I will write about saris and cultural appropriation by white chicks mad at how much weight they have put on. Or maybe about Downton Abbey. For the mean time, I'm so sorry I never responded to comments from two weeks ago: they cheered me up enormously, thank you all, but every time I thought about P&P (or anything else not school-related) I would burst into tears, which was probably not what you wanted by way of thanks.