A funny tickle in my throat appeared Thursday evening. By Friday night I was propped up in bed at night to allow oxygen flow and on Saturday morning I announced to JD, “I’b sick.” Sunday and Monday kept me on bed rest, and even as I type this on Tuesday, I’m sitting on the couch, where I’ve been planted all day to work. A large bowl of Kleenex sits by my side.
Drugs are a wonderful thing. Nyquil? Glorious. Nasal drops? Fantastic. Cough drops? Genius. Being pregnant? Means I can not have any of the above.
I am allowed to take Tylenol, and so I have taken two doses warily to break my fever (yes, I was sick enough to develop a fever – I can’t even remember the last time that happened) which gets me profusely sweating and stripped of all the clothes I had deliberately put on to keep me from getting the chills in the first place.
On a happier note, however, I have been distracted from the perma-quease that has decidedly become part of my life due to little baby in my belly, and I no longer have that outrageous sense of smell that also comes with pregnancy and is not my friend when husband eats too many beans the night before…