So, being sick is awful. It's horrible. It's miserable. And I don't handle it well. :) But now that some of the black, dark, horrible cloud has lifted and I know I'm going to survive this (dramatic, much?), I can look back at the amazing care God took of me this week.
I started getting sick Sunday night.
Matt was off on Monday. We had leftovers for dinner.
The girls had school on Tuesday, and my co-workers covered for me for meetings.
My grandma made dinner Tuesday night.
My mommy was off Wednesday and came over to take care of us.
Nobody had an appetite Wednesday evening so dinner was sort of moot. I have no idea what Matt ate, if anything. Poor man.
I slept most of the night. Ahhhhh.
The antibiotics kicked in overnight, and my sore throat has been downgraded to "uncomfortable," even without Tylenol, instead of horrible deathly feeling searing pain.
I'm working today, but my mom's at home with the girls, and they're loving it!
Nobody extra is off tomorrow, but even if I don't feel any better, I know I can handle it.
I'm getting pretty nauseous with the antibiotics, but I am keeping them down -- whoo hoo!
I think getting sick is my body's way of making me rest. I don't have a choice. And man, I'm pooped.
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