shake the disease

I'm feeling better, a lot better, but still really awful. So I did what anyone in my position (two blocks away from Macy's) would do. I went to Henrik to be healed. Am I healed? Not so far. But I did get to look at him in person and stand right in front of him for a full 20 seconds and even talk to him a little. Plus I got a signed puck.

He's totally all gorgeous in person, in case you were wondering.

she sits in our old place all day long

Sick days? SICK DAYS?! You know how I feel about sick days. In my mind, I am very ready to get back to work. My body is not cooperating. I woke up, somewhat disheartened by the rain (Ugh, I guess I better take the bus -- not a good idea to be walking that golden mile in the rain when you're sick), only to be hit by a 15-minute cough fest that produced something too gross to describe (but awesome) and utter swooning exhaustion. I am not ready to go back. Bleh.

how can I ease the pain?

What a waste of vacation, lying on the couch in misery, watching the Rangers lose twice and hating everything ever. I really really need to be back in good form for work tomorrow, and I really need sleep, so I have concocted a reasonably lovely hot toddy for myself (with spiced dark rum, honey, hot water, ginger, lemon and cloves) for I am sure these voodoo remedies have to work better than the OTC crap that isn't doing a thing.

PS: This title brought to you by this :

I got sick, then I got sicker

The flu? Seriously? But I felt fine yesterday. Apparently that's how it works with the flu. I woke up this morning and couldn't move from the aches and pains. Now I am exhausted, aching, fevered and bleh with a sore throat. Please God, that I didn't pass it on to anyone yesterday.

you're going up you're going down you're going nowhere

I don't usually take the subway home at 6:30PM, but I had a meeting a little late today, and it turns out the subway at 6:30PM is not so bad. Firstly, the trains weren't as frantically crowded as I thought. Secondly, I spotted John Turturro, who is incredibly handsome. I, for one, was quite surprised. He's pretty gray and very tan, but in a "I've been working outside" way, not "I've been fake tanning" way. Then I saw the singer from Nada Surf, who I used to see in Williamsburg all the time. He looked nice too. But John Turturro, totally hot.

Ooh, I got this awesome thing. It is ruling my world right now. And yes, I am using it right now!

right on the hour the traffic slowed

Of course I woke up Friday morning to e-mails telling me to skip the meeting since I'd asked to run out early and all. Sometimes you have to have a meltdown to disturb the balance in such a way that people get a chill miles away and say, "Oh, yes. Jane is out early that day. She shouldn't stay for this meeting."

Or, you know, I could have just said, "Um, do I have to go to this? I have a bus to catch." But there's no way I would do that. Being crazy is really tough, I tell you.

I can't stand up anymore

So I passed out last night. Twice. I have been dizzy and dropped. I've felt faint and swooned. But I have never ever ever gone down like this.

I'm in the bathroom, after a bath, when the Gay Pimp podcast begins to sound very far away, then underwater. Then I start seeing spots, then blurry spots, then I wake up on the floor. No memory of falling, no recollection of impact. My head hurts, I'm lying on the bathmat, and I don't know how much time has passed.

I feel like my head is asleep, the way that one's foot falls asleep. So I try to shake it off, then I try to stand it off. I'm successfully standing it off by holding on to the towel bar and praying for a clear head and then I wake up in the bathtub. And I went down fighting, apparently. The towel bar is bent and on the floor and everything that was on the side of the tub is on top of me.

Now I'm terrified. I crawl out of the tub, sit up next to the sink and hear Dollie coming in the front door. "I'll just be a minute!" I yell out. But it took me more like 15 to manage to put some clothes on and stand up.

I was in a state and had no idea what to do. And then I went to my #1 medical advisor, Google, and learned that if you don't remember fainting, you fainted. Also, that fainting is often caused by not eating (I meant to, but I couldn't decide what I wanted), not getting enough sleep (two hockey games in a row), working out without proper energy reserves (hey, those triceps are not going to tone themselves), and a sudden change in blood pressure (that hot bath couldn't have helped).

Once it made sense, I felt so much better. But my head's still a little swimmy today, and I was spooked enough to go out of my way to get some breakfast this morning. Let's just hope I can stay vertical from here on out. If I faint at work, I will die of embarrassment. I'm sure of it.

life is a test and I get bad marks

OK, I decided how I will know my one true love when I meet him: I will say, "Cool Ice, Cold Soda" and he will know what I am I talking about. Don't bother looking it up online, would-be suitors. Google is no help. Someone out there knows what I mean, and probably maybe it is Matt Cullen.

Hopefully this damn team stops losing, else I may have to think twice about him. Even if he knows "Cool Ice, Cold Soda." See, now I can say that because it is my team. Brett Hull, on the other hand, is dead to me. Talking smack about Matt Cullen and Adam Hall? In the middle of a game? On MSG? Don't hate the players, hate the game, son.

PS I am officially delirious. Is it really only Thursday?

dancing over coals and we'd never know

So I have this disease. It's the Fever, but not a fever for cowbell or even Matt Cullen. It's a real fever, and while I would normally just drown it in over-the-counter medication and liquids, I cannot, for nothing I put in my body is staying there. Which defies laws of gravity and logic, and I hate it.

So they let me go home very early to get better and not make anyone sick. But it is boring here. So I will take a nap. Another problem is that my whole body feels like it is cooking from the inside, except my hands and feet are freezing cold, like there's no blood in them. That's just gross. I hope a nap cures this, because that's all I've got to work with. And I need to get back to work bright and early tomorrow. Working from home is way too frustrating and irritating to be an option, especially on a Thursday.

Eew, there's a big Jeff Goldblum-sized fly in the house. I'm crying.

Oh, please read this. It's like The Framley Examiner, only real. Also, in case Merrill didn't tell you, that means he had 47 goals and 42 assists (for a total of 89 points) in 28 games. And that's what we'd call a fantastic 28 games.

some kind of life with the edges taken off

Thanksgiving was delightful, but I am so beat today. All of my muscles hurt and I can't hardly keep my eyes open.

I was supposed to go out and do something fun, or at the very least catch up on "Dexter" today, but I didn't even pull that off.

What did I do? Eat way too much pumpkin loaf (thank you El Fano!), read a couple of chapters of the Bernardo/Homolka book I've been dying for (thank you Paperback Swap!), listen to most of the latest Gay Pimp podcast and do some dishes. What a snore.

everyone wants to take a stab

I think I had a panic attack today. Maybe my first! How exciting. I wasn't feeling it as panic though, mostly anger.

Maybe I was panicking that I would never stop being angry? Or maybe it was a rage attack. Either way, I got so angry for so prolonged a time that I realized I'd stopped breathing. Well, I was breathing, but incredibly shallow, scary breaths. And it was taking everything I had to muster them up. It was not OK.

It would probably be helpful (as a modern log of my life) to recall even 1/8 of the events that led up to this, but I'm thinking of one now and starting to shake. So never mind! La la la!

I'll serve you just to serve

Today is a very sporting day. First was the marathon, which I mark not by running 26.2 miles, but by clapping and "whoo!-ing" nonstop for three hours. It's exhausting, and probably the most athletic thing I do all year. Here's a photo I found on Flickr from today. I'm in it. So's Dollo. Can you find us?

And now the hockey game is on. It is too hot in here (or I am too fevery) to keep my new gorgeous amazing Beukeboom jersey on (#23, son!).

I feel pretty miserable again. While out clapping and "whoo!"-ing, I was not feeling pain for I was entirely into it. But now I am home and hurting again.

I really want a grilled cheese sandwich. "So make a grilled cheese sandwich" you might say. Except I don't have cheese or bread. What a disgrace. I am a grownup, with money, and I elect to keep a home that doesn't include bread and cheese? It's only now that I realize how ridiculous this is.

let's not get loud

I slept through the dark this morning. I don't do that much. I can't do it five days a week, else I'd be really late for work. But even on the weekends, I usually have a few awakenings before the sun's up. Not today. I didn't open my eyes until 7. What a delight.

Though it may be due to complete exhaustion. And all the crying. Last night, c. 7:30, I started having horrible terrible evil gnawing stomach ulcer hate pain. I looked up online how to make it go away with common household items (because damned if I had been able to find the healing power of liquid Maalox anywhere in two years), and all the sites told me was that it was my own fault. Excessive use of NSAIDs gave you that ulcer, and now you pay. Ugh. Please. I wasn't taking handfuls of asprin and Advil back in the day for kicks. I was taking them because I had a cracked molar and various other dental ailments, plus shame and no insurance. It was handfuls of NSAIDs or handfuls of don't-wake-up-anymore pills. And if you don't get that, you've never had a real toothache, I assure you.

So I had to cry and cry. I feel like web sites should say, "We are sorry you feel bad. Here is to help you." Instead of, "Way you break yourself, smartie."

So this morning I got up and went to the drugstore where not only did they have a gorgeous selection of liquid antacids (thank you, Eckerd) but also even the store brand. Now I have a huge bottle of cooling mint Fakelox in the fridge. I've downed a ton of it (plus a PretendCid AC) and still don't feel much better, but it's so relieving to know it's there.

Anyway, I blame the laundry and work for making it hurt so much again. For while stress cannot cause an ulcer (only you can, with your stupid pill-popping, Jane), I know that it can make it so angry. Wah.

If you'd sick of reading me whine about my pain, check out Pink Elephants' delightful NaBloPoMo randomizer for something much better. Sometimes.

clear the floor

I am so tired and cranky. The people picked up my laundry on Wednesday, and it still hasn't been returned. I've had a fever for about three weeks. And I really want to go to bed. I have nothing to write about. So instead, look at this photo! It is taken from my sexy hot 1/2 season ticket seat. What a delight. And the Rangers keep winning, two times in a row! This is a step in the right direction. Good times.