I actually got to bed at a reasonable hour last night.
This morning I woke up at 5, used the bathroom, and went back to sleep.
8:30 rolls around and I struggle to the surface, only to be sorry that I bothered when I was finally awake.
You've heard that expression, I felt like I was hit by a truck?
Yeah, that was me, this morning. Everything, but everything, hurt. If you've never experienced this feeling, there's no describing it. If, say, you're sitting at a lecture and you start to feel a little twinge, you can usually cross your legs the other way or stretch out your arms in front of you to get the kinks out. This morning, it literally did not matter what I did, it hurt.
Then DS2 comes in, very cheerful as usual. He was dressed, all by himself! Amazing. I asked him about breakfast, he had had "just one piece of toast," so could he have, "poached eggs and more toast?" Sure, just give me a minute (an hour, a day...) to get up here...
I hauled myself out of bed, took my meds, took out my retainer and cleaned my teeth, got dressed, came downstairs and made him eggs and toast. And then...
Uh-oh. An entire cup of milk up-ended onto the table, his breakfast (fortunately, the toast was spared, and the eggs were almost gone anyway), DS1, his chair, the floor... (whimper)
But: "No crying! Remember the saying?" I mop it all up, give him the choice: change first, or finish eating and then change? He elects to eat his toast and then change.
I putter around some more, waiting for the hour since I took my meds to elapse. We have errands to do! Finally I can make myself a protein shake and we can be out the door... I open the cupboard and lift the container out by the lid, which promptly pops off in my hands. The container falls the foot-and-a-half to the floor, falls over, and rolls.
I admit, I just stood there watching it until it stopped, a trail of chocolate-flavored protein powder in its wake. Fortunately there wasn't all that much left of it, else it would've been a much bigger mess...
The stick vaccuum got most of it up, but then the battery died and I mopped up the rest of it with paper towels. (sigh)
Errands, now. Trader Joe's went fine, although I'm sure I forgot something. Then, Sam's Club, except now I'm feeling very unwell, and debate whether or not to go home. Then it became clear that the best thing to do would be to stop and use their bathroom, because home was definitely too far away.
I felt like my innards had been pureed and were now falling out of me.
(end TMI warning)
Then there's the added stress of having DS1, 4 years old, with me. He's all happy and stuff, he loves going out and about, and he thinks public bathrooms are cool. He is fascinated by the new, fully automatic bathrooms at Sam's Club. I just appreciate that they are clean, and frankly just that they exist at this point.
So he's all, let's go, let's go, and I have to explain to him that I'm feeling pretty sick. His nonchalance was remarkable. It was exactly the same as if I had told him, "I need to finish reading this," or something similarly innocuous. I guess that's a good thing(?), the kid not realizing that his mom wants to just curl up in a ball and whimper?
So I get through that and we do speed-shopping and then stand on line to get cookies for the kids at the cafe, and we're late to get DD but she doesn't mind because, you see, we have the cookies.
Come home, put away the groceries (chicken leaked! ick), get the kids lunch, feel like keeling over.
Then I got a call from my gastroenterologist's office, an automated message actually. It's time for me to schedule a follow-up appointment. I don't want to. The way things are going lately, he'll schedule at least 2 invasive procedures to try and figure out what's going on, both of which will be inconclusive or reveal something else dreadful for me to deal with. No thanks!
Well, I guess I'll think about it.