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Le sigh.....
Tuesday, November 21st, 2006 03:26 amOkay... I had to suck it up and face facts and call the Beautiful Sister to let her know that
1) There will be no pumpkin pie made by Auntie at Thanksgiving this year. At least... not at HER house.
2) The reason there will be no Auntie-made pumpkin pie is because I will not be there, either.
3) This is because I am hacking up my lungs, and basically being a limp noodle, because while at first I thought I had caught a more virulent version of the Impertinent Daughter's cold... now I'm not so sure.
Now, I could have emailed her, and avoided the wail of dismay ("What, no pie? Oh, say it isn't so, PLEASE, Oddball Sister!")and the rationalizing of how I could still make it ("No, really, if you've been on antibiotics for 24 hours and fever free for 12, you won't be contagious. Look, we'll make up a bed on the couch, big soft pillows, lots of soft blankets, all you have to do is lie there, WE'LL do everything else! You just be lazy and let US deal with the kids! We can DO this!"), and then the scolding, ("You need antibiotics!! Why didn't you go to the doctor on Friday? YOu'd be over this by now! What were you thinking??").
... sigh.
However, if I had emailed her, she wouldn't have believed me. Oh, Beautiful Sister would have emailed me back saying how sorry she was that we couldn't come and to rest up and get better. But... she wouldn't have believed it. So I called her on the phone. Why? Because I've got severe laryngitis, I have NO voice, and therefore, I am undeniably sick. How bad is it? I've had complete strangers beg me not to talk. This is while dropping off and picking up the kids at school. Saturday, I sounded like Louis Armstrong in Hell. Yesterday, I sounded like Louis Armstrong being slowly strangled while being boiled alive. Now, I sound like Voldemort in the first Harry Potter movie. But worse. Much, much worse. He sounds positively healthy next to me.
So, I called her, and she freaked, and then she rationalized, and then she fussed, and then her nurse training kicked in sort of, and she started asking the sorts of questions she'd ask if I were sitting in Dr. H's office, waiting to be seen. Which is nice in a way, but... not. So I had to pinky-swear over the phone (you have no idea how hard that is to do, but hey, she's blonde, I'll cut her some slack) that I would at least CALL my doctor (who at the moment is still the bonehead doctor, because we just switched insurance, and I haven't had a chance to see who's available to me now... WHEEEEEEEE!!!! FREEDOM!!!!) and let them know what's going on.
Can I go back to bed now?
... sigh....
1) There will be no pumpkin pie made by Auntie at Thanksgiving this year. At least... not at HER house.
2) The reason there will be no Auntie-made pumpkin pie is because I will not be there, either.
3) This is because I am hacking up my lungs, and basically being a limp noodle, because while at first I thought I had caught a more virulent version of the Impertinent Daughter's cold... now I'm not so sure.
Now, I could have emailed her, and avoided the wail of dismay ("What, no pie? Oh, say it isn't so, PLEASE, Oddball Sister!")and the rationalizing of how I could still make it ("No, really, if you've been on antibiotics for 24 hours and fever free for 12, you won't be contagious. Look, we'll make up a bed on the couch, big soft pillows, lots of soft blankets, all you have to do is lie there, WE'LL do everything else! You just be lazy and let US deal with the kids! We can DO this!"), and then the scolding, ("You need antibiotics!! Why didn't you go to the doctor on Friday? YOu'd be over this by now! What were you thinking??").
... sigh.
However, if I had emailed her, she wouldn't have believed me. Oh, Beautiful Sister would have emailed me back saying how sorry she was that we couldn't come and to rest up and get better. But... she wouldn't have believed it. So I called her on the phone. Why? Because I've got severe laryngitis, I have NO voice, and therefore, I am undeniably sick. How bad is it? I've had complete strangers beg me not to talk. This is while dropping off and picking up the kids at school. Saturday, I sounded like Louis Armstrong in Hell. Yesterday, I sounded like Louis Armstrong being slowly strangled while being boiled alive. Now, I sound like Voldemort in the first Harry Potter movie. But worse. Much, much worse. He sounds positively healthy next to me.
So, I called her, and she freaked, and then she rationalized, and then she fussed, and then her nurse training kicked in sort of, and she started asking the sorts of questions she'd ask if I were sitting in Dr. H's office, waiting to be seen. Which is nice in a way, but... not. So I had to pinky-swear over the phone (you have no idea how hard that is to do, but hey, she's blonde, I'll cut her some slack) that I would at least CALL my doctor (who at the moment is still the bonehead doctor, because we just switched insurance, and I haven't had a chance to see who's available to me now... WHEEEEEEEE!!!! FREEDOM!!!!) and let them know what's going on.
Can I go back to bed now?
... sigh....
