I’m going to start with something light:
2. And now a mystery! What do you suppose this is a photo of??
If you answered “Seventeen lab vials that need to be filled with poop ASAP,” you’d be correct! And how does one win such a handsome prize?? Exhibit signs of an intestinal parasite! First world problems getting you down? Than why not try one from the third world? Apparently, you can do this without actually traveling to one. I’m trying to stay positive and just pretend I’m hosting a really small foreign exchange student.
4. Officially, we won’t know if it’s a parasite until the lab results come back which should only take, oh, a week and a half. Because the doctor can’t be certain what parasite it is, he’s hesitant to prescribe something immediately, unless the symptoms return with a vengeance. Currently, everyone is feeling pretty good, but that seems to be how this thing works. Tranquility, and then BOOM, I’ve got an explosion of vial samples.
5. It occurred to me today that I never used a “shock and awe” reference in my post about bras a few weeks back. This realization added to my sadness.
6. Does anyone else talk extra loud to their kids when they’re out to help clarify any questions strangers might have upon looking at you? Like, when I was walking Edie across the parking lot to dance camp the other night some people started towards us and I started blurting out “Yes Edie, Mama is tired and needs to go home and get back to bed. I’m just not feeling good today. Papa will bring you home because, just look at me, I’m so sick. I shouldn’t be out looking like this, but I wanted to make sure you don’t miss your dance camp.” Like by saying that, these people will overhear and then understand that this otherwise wretched and tattered looking women is really a supermodel who’s just having one bad day. I don’t really look like this all the time people!!!!! Maybe it’s just the parasites. I’m pretty sure I’m going to blame everything on the parasites until the antibiotics have run their course. And then I’ll blame everything on the antibiotics. Then, I’ll be forced to accept that I’m just normally pretty unstable.
“Which would you take: a 0.01% chance of being bitten in half by a one-ton reptile, or a 70% chance of a scorpion sneaking into your bed and attacking you?” OR a 100% chance of being forced to fill vials with poop while nauseous thanks to an intestinal parasite?
Would you like to go wash your hands now? I understand. Just be sure to swing back to Jen’s for healthier takes. I need to go clear my calendar for an exciting weekend of…well you know.
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