More or less interesting…

So this “I haven’t been feeling well” business accumulated yesterday into Florence Roommate driving me to the emergency clinic.

My legs were more stiff than they’d been since I hurt them, there was puss at the back of my mouth (nommy when she caught me washing it from the dish sink), and I was hallucinating/falling asleep and having quick, weird, dreams. I remember handing her a book at one point and then looking up to see that she was in a whole other room, I was late for work, and the turkeydog I had the night before was about to make a grand reappearance.

The book was a lie. (10 internets to whoever gets that)

After more of this ‘the walls are shaking, are you going to read that damn book?’ nonsense, she drove me to the emergency clinic near where I used to go to school, and there was a little boy sitting next to us. He and his sister looked like the sort of people who are usually dirty but are clean at the moment– their clothes were too nice, but just a little frayed at the side. His cheeks were as red as the maraschino cherries I should have been stocking, and when Florence Roommate and I asked if he was okay, he pouted but nodded very  bravely. His sister looked up from Turtle and Rabbit are Friends to solemnly add “He has a cough”.

When the doctor was examining me I could hear the kid in the next room; when the nurse said “This is going to be uncomfortable, but it’ll only last for a second” I knew it was a strep test and tried to close my ears to everything but the sound of my teeth chattering and doctor lecturing about a lack of inoculations on my part. I’d had the flu for almost a week– all those germs, spreading haphazardly around, for almost an entire seven days.

“You can get the shot now or spend three days in the hospital. The shot will make you feel better,” Nurse told the little boy across the partition. My doctor had run off to get a prescription pad and note for my manager. I could hear the sister in the purple Hannah Montana poncho quietly read.

The little boy refused. He had pneumonia along with an infection that settled in his chest.

“I’ll let you and your sister look at my tattoo. Wanna look at my tattoo? It’s a pretty bird!” The nurse bribed, and I could imagine a swallow above the ankle of her Crocs. The boy folded and I could hear him let out that brave, but scared, “Uhn!” sound that kids make. If that broke your heart a little, I peeked under the plastic partition and saw the nurse take her shoe off to a gallery of prepubescent “oohs” and “ahhs” at the sight of a tattoo she probably regrets now that she’s older. At least she has a sense of humor about it.

We had to go to Retail Behemoth to give them my doctor’s note, which made me feel like I was in the principle’s office all over again. I bought a pair of jammypants while there, along with a 5-foot sickwich.

At first we wanted to call it my broodwich, for obvious reasons, but changed out minds; sickwich it remains. It’s the only thing I’m eating right now, but it’s more than I’ve been eating in about a week and I’m topping 100lb again, so woot.

It’s kinda nice to be alone in the house. I fell asleep after much tossing and turning last night; too tired to do anything, to awake to sleep. Finally I downloaded French Cafe and Serge Gainsborough ushered me on to Nod.

I miss my cat, worry about the fish, want to sleep on a real bed, and am worried about making Florence Roommate sick, but can’t go to the mother’s right now. Even though Florence Roommate has a weak immune system and is missing a kidney, there are little kids at Mom’s, and I’m not too sure yet what the lesser of the two evils are quite yet.

Drama gave me a tshirt that is the best sicky tshirt ever. Pink jammybottoms and a Jagermeister tshirt asking: ‘Got Lube?’

Seymour Roommate is still sleeping on the couch, so the TV is off-limits until then. I don’t think Florence Roommate would let me touch it with these germs anyhow, so I’m going to let sleeping boys lie. Last night I tried to wake him up, asking if he’d be more comfortable in his own bed, and apparently no, he would not, but he was so sweet and he looks so young when he’s restful like that.

I clicked off the lights, admired the plants in his room for a while, closed his bedroom door, and fell asleep listening to Bridgette Bardot.