It will come as no surprise

to anybody that I am sick.

I was going to say "really, really sick", but I think I could knock it down to just one "really" at this point, because I am fever free(ish), and that is usually a turning point for me.

Just like last year, I went and got myself sick right after Christmas. Actually, this year, it's been a little bit different for a few reasons (like the fact that I am actually writing this while it is still December, rather than the middle of January), but basically, it went like this:

1. I realized I was getting sick as we were going through the frenzy of last week's Christmas preparations, and I started taking my back up antibiotics as soon as that happened.
   
2. Unfortunately, I still had a million and a half cookies to bake, and a sick Lil Girl to entertain, and Mum who was sick (and had left all her Xmas shopping til the last minute as usual), and therefore I had to do things like manage to get my own food and essentials like that, and so I couldn't really just rest and try to head things off as much as I might like to have.
3. On Christmas, I wore myself out even more. Mostly having fun, although there was some managing of things that I really should've just let go mixed in there too. But still, mostly having fun.
   
4. By dessert time on Christmas day, my throat was scratchy, my head was stuffy, and I knew I was getting a fever. I started coughing, but everybody was coughing, so no big deal, right?
5. Wrong. Big deal. By three in the morning, after everyone has finally given up on the Beatles Band Hero, and either gone home or gone to bed, I knew I was in serious trouble. I was having trouble breathing, my throat was so swollen; I could barely move because of the damn fever; and Imight be wrong, but I think someone must have transformed my room into a sauna as a surprise Christmas present for me.
   
6. Saturday and Sunday disappeared into a fevered fog. I have vague recollections of chills so violent I required four blankets (which all hurt: thanks FM!) & two heating pads, and the fact that there seemed to be an endless cycle of having to drink, having to get up to pee, and crying because it hurt so bad. I gave up on watching movies, and spent a lot of time staring into the window lights for no damn reason except that I couldn't think enough to realize that I knew how to shut them off.
   
7. Monday morning, the fever broke and has been mostly gone since then, which means I was able to rewatch (and actually understand this time) Harry Potter and The Half Blood Prince (awesome), and the antibiotics finally start to kick in so that I was finally able to swallow something other than soup.
8. "Eating" nothing but soup for three days does not agree with my stomach. My stomach decided to make its disagreement well known.
   
9. Yesterday, I finally got in the shower, and Mum changed my disgusting sheets, and after that I felt vaguely human again. Brain power started slowly coming back, and I remembered things I am supposed to stay connected to like my sister's mother-in-law's surgery and my cousin's ultrasound results.
   
10. We finally get to today, where I feel halfway decent (for me), and have gone from sounding like a cigar-smoking Darth Vadar to just a cigar-smoking frog. The hacking cough is lighter and less croup-y, and my tonsils are back on their own sides of my throat.
    

While this is hopeful, and I'm glad the antibiotics are really working this time, I would really just like to not catch every damn thing. Next year, I'm making the cookie dough in August, and freezing it all. And I'm going to start shopping now, because I can not let myself get so run down. And it pisses me off that 15 years into this damn disease, I still haven't managed to set - and keep - the limits that I need to in order to help myself stay healthy. Which isn't to say that I wouldn't have caught it anyways - Lil Girl, Mum, (not) Youngest Nephew, & his dad are all/have all been sick either this week or last week, so it's not just me of the ruined immune system, but I know that there are ways to protect myself more, and I hate that I let my guard down in that area when things get stressed. Because these damn infections are starting to get more and more serious, and I am not going back to the hospital if I can help it at all.

So, now onto step 11: rest, rest, Guitar Hero, rest, eat real food, watch crappy TV, more rest. Join me, why don't you?