I went to see my doctor yesterday. We are new to one another and we needed a pow-wow. The last time I was there, I handed him a box with about 10 pounds of paper medical records in it. I think, page for page, it’s up there with “War and Peace,” but probably not nearly as entertaining.
We got a lot of stuff worked out. I got the prescriptions I need, we talked.
I had a headache. I had it while I was there and it got worse when I got home. By the middle of the afternoon, my stomach was doing flip-flops and my head was pounding. I felt … sick. How could that be? I just came home from the doctor.
This morning, Garry work up, elbowed me in the ribs, told me he felt awful. Then he rolled over and went back to sleep. That was his secret coded language for “Reschedule my dentist appointment and make my excuses … and don’t wake me up until dinner, and maybe not even then.”
I rescheduled the dentist, came out to give the dogs their totally undeserved treats and fresh water. Since I was up anyway, I did whatever needed doing. How did this morph from me not feeling well, to Garry not feeling well? Is today’s pounding headache yesterday’s headache reborn with the morning?
By the time I sat down with the laptop, an English muffin with ginger preserves, and my big cup of coffee, I noticed I still don’t feel well. This totally sucks because we are going to visit friends for the rest of the week and I would prefer not feeling like something the dogs dragged in.
Don’t you hate when this happens?
This joke is definitely on me.