Valentine's came and went. No big deal. We went out for Italian, the three of us, me, K, and Sid. We were in and out of the restaurant in an hour. Not bad for no reservations on Valentine's Day. No flowers, which was fine. Flowers are beautiful, but they die, and I don't have any shade of green thumb.
I finally had to go back to work. I wasn't ready for it. I liked living the life of a child - not a care in the world except what I want to eat for dinner. I don't feel very productive either. I'm working but it feels like I'm moving in slow motion.
My trip was nice but coming back was horrible. Not just because I didn't want to come back to my life, but because I was sick. Monday night I woke up with a slightly queasy stomach, but I ignored it and went back to sleep figuring it wasn't anything. Tuesday morning we had breakfast and headed out. By 3 pm some chills came over me. I thought it was the orange juice I was drinking but I realized soon after that it wasn't. Within half an hour I was freezing and shaking and coughing. I brought a cough with me to Jamaica but this new cough was different. We got to the airport by 4:30 pm and all I could do was look for a seat. I felt like I didn't want to move. I had a terrible fever, I just knew. I felt so nauseous. We found out our flight was delayed an hour. Oh, was I excited about that! I wanted so badly to get home to my bed. On the way to the security area I made a pit stop in the bathroom. I couldn't take the feeling anymore. I picked the first open stall and went in and so did my finger...right down my throat it went. What came out I'll leave to the imagination. (My angel of a mother-in-law escorted me and waited understandingly for me to finish.) Afterwards I felt amazingly better...for a short period of time at least. K bought me some mint tea but I couldn't manage to drink more than half. Everyone else was starved so they feasted while I manned the luggage doing all I could to stay awake.
If that was all there was to the story I'd be so glad, but there's more. I got a chance to take a nap when my husband came over. I curled up as best I could on a little bitty airport lounge chair, resting my head on my husband's lap. When we heard the boarding announcement there was relief in the air and we all trudged in line. Me, in the meantime, realized that my left hand couldn't open all the way. I thought it would tingle and get back to normal, but it never did. It's been in this semi-paralysis ever since. It doesn't seem like it's getting better either, but the dr says it'll take a while (how long is a while?). The dr also had the pleasure of informing me that I had bronchitis and he put me on 7 days of antibiotics.
I was in bed til Sunday. Besides feeling crappy for the first three days, it was heaven being home and not doing anything. If I was well I would've felt obligated to do housework. Being sick I didn't feel any guilt laying in bed all day sleeping. (I wasn't up to watching tv or being on the computer, as much as I thought I wanted to.) We watched a bunch of movies (I, Robot, Hero, Bourne Supremacy, Collateral, some Wesley Snipes movie, and Manchurian Candidate).
Enough rambling for now.