I’m sick. Again.

A week ago Monday I woke up with a very sore throat. My whole neck felt like it was on fire. And my voice started cracking. By the end of the day I could barely speak. Any time I spoke it came out as a low growly whisper.

By Tuesday I was feeling better. My throat no longer hurt. My voice was back. All was good.

Or so I thought.

Around 5:30pm my nose was a toss between completely stuffy and dripping snot down my face. Good times.

By Wednesday it was clear I had a cold. And a bad one. My head felt like it was going to explode. At at times, I wished it would. I couldn’t breath out of my nose. My throat was sore again. I was coughing so much my abs were burning. And my low growly whisper voice was back.

That night Spencer asked, “What’s wrong with your voice?”

I said, “It’s my sexy voice.”

Spencer kind of rolled his eyes and replied, “You don’t have a sexy voice. You haven’t had a sexy voice since you married Dad.”

Nice. I can’t even get the love from my own kids when I’m clearly on my death bed.

Finally by Sunday I could breath again. Out of one nostril. I could sort of see the light at the end of the tunnel.

But by this point the cold had moved in to my chest. I don’t know why I wait so long. I have asthma. And chronic sinusitis. COLD’S ALWAYS MOVE IN TO MY CHEST. And yet I ALWAYS wait way too long before I go to the doctor. And then I end of with pneumonia. You’d think I would have learned by now. But no. I’m stubborn like that.

So on Monday I finally dragged my sorry butt to the doctor. I sat in the room, making my way through his box of kleenex and coughing up a lung.

The doctor came in and looked up my nose. Red and swollen. But not as bad as he thought it would be.

Then he listened to my chest. One deep breath and he said, “Wow. You sound really bad.”

Jeez. I can’t even get any love for my doctor.

He thinks I probably have the beginning of pneumonia, but he can’t really hear anything over all the rattling of the “gunk in my chest” (his words…which I’m sure they teach in medical school).

So I got another shot of steroids in the butt. I’m pretty sure there isn’t a single person in that office that hasn’t seen my ass by this point. And now I have a prescription for an antibiotic and Prednisone. Which means I’ll soon be up all night with insomnia thanks to the steroid.

Gotta love asthma.

2009 has been a medically rough year for us. My medical issues aside (which have me at the doctor quarterly for checkups in a good year and monthly when my asthma flares up, pneumonia comes a knocking, and my OCD takes me on a turn of the crazies), the rest of the family is usually pretty healthy. Other than their annual physicals the kids can go years without visiting the doctor. And nobody’s had a broken bone (again me and my constant broken toes from tripping over crap in this house excluded) since Keaton was in junior high and fractured his heel in soccer.

But this year? This year the kids decided to end that streak. And end it with a vengeance.

Back in September, Spencer fractured his wrist during one of his football games. And then, following in his big brother’s footsteps, Caleb fractured his wrist on Christmas Eve.

As we were leaving grandma’s house on Christmas Eve, the boys went outside to play. It’s Iowa. In the winter. So it had been snowing and raining all day. And the driveway was slick. Not exactly ideal weather for horseplay. But has that ever stopped boys before? NO!

Apparently Justis tackled Spencer. Spencer fell on Caleb. And somehow Caleb fractured both bones in his wrist. Ouch!

All the way home Caleb cried in the back seat. It was obviously very painful. As soon as we got home we put some ice on it and sat down to watch Fred Claus. Throughout the entire movie Caleb was breaking my heart with his Christmas wishes. “All I want for Christmas is for my wrist to feel better,” he cried. “This Christmas I just want to be able to use my hand,” he sniffled. “I wish I could just play video games,” he sobbed.

By Christmas morning his wrist was swelling up. And a bump began to form on the top of his arm. Unlike Spencer’s wrist a couple months ago, it was pretty evident Caleb’s wrist was broken.

So on Saturday we braved the extremely germy urgent care center to confirm what we already suspected. As soon as the doctor looked at Caleb’s wrist he said, “Oh yeah. That’s broken. But we’ll do xrays just to be sure.”

Yep. Fractured.

So they gave him a brace to wear until we could call out family doctor and get Caleb an appointment with the orthopedic doc. His ortho appointment was this morning. And he got a hard cast. A red one. A bright red one. And he’s pretty proud of it.

He’s doing well now. He says his wrist doesn’t even hurt anymore. And the best part? He can still play video games. So Christmas was saved.

Now all this mom would like for Christmas is no more broken bones in this family. Can 2010 be a broken-bone-free year? Let’s hope so!

Every year my doctor tries to convince me to get a flu shot. I have asthma so I’m in a higher risk group. Some years I avoid him in the winter season just to get out of the shot. Other years I can’t help it. This was one of those years. I had a sore throat that led to me losing my voice that led to a lingering cough. I thought for sure I had pneumonia (which I get a couple times a year) so I had to go to the doctor. Can’t get over pneumonia without antibiotics and I didn’t want to die.

Turns out it wasn’t pneumonia. It was just my asthma. (Which was so odd because I wasn’t wheezing at all so I really didn’t think it was asthma. But what do I know?) Sucks because my ENT gave me an ongoing prescription for Prednisone. If I had known it was asthma I could have just taken my Prednisone and avoided this whole ugly flu shot situation.

So there I was in the office. And I was trapped. Yes, I could just refuse the flu shot, but then I’d get that evil eye from my doctor. He has this way of making you feel guilty when you are making poor decisions about your health. Like the time I admitted I’m not very good about taking my medications and he [albeit nicely] lectured me about how my asthma would be under control if I would just remember to take my Advair. Even just once a day would be better than not at all. And I walked out dead set on taking my medicine every day because I don’t want to disappoint him.

Yeah, that lasted about three days. [Pretty much how I react to advice from parents too. *waving to my mom and dad*]

I got the H1N1 shot a couple weeks ago and everything was good. No soreness. No side effects. Nothing.

So, even though I know there are side effects to the flu shot, I figured it would just be a repeat of the H1N1. I’d get on the shot and be on my way without another thought about it.

Oh how wrong I was.

Within a few hours the arm that got the shot started to ache. Not just a little “oh I got a shot” ache, but a “holy mother of God my arm aches” ache. I could barely lift it.

I gave the shot a little scolding. “You sure as hell better not be trying to play this whole side effect game with me shot. ‘Cause homey don’t play.”

But the shot just laughed it’s pretty little shot head off at me and the aching moved in to my back. My lower back was killing me. I couldn’t tell if the tears in my eyes were from Intervention or my back. [Speaking of Intervention, dude that show gets me every time and in this particular episode the mom got clean and then 5 weeks after coming home left her husband and children anyway. Me? Sobbing!]

So anyway, then that asshole shot moved in to my other arm before attacking my thighs. My whole body ached like I’d accidentally fallen asleep in the driveway and Lee drove over me two or three THOUSAND times.

And if that wasn’t bad enough I started to get the chills. It was so bad I was shivering and my teeth were chattering. I accidentally woke Lee up when I finally went to bed. He said, “I didn’t realize we got one of those vibrating beds. How do I turn it off?”

Eventually I warmed up enough to fall asleep. Only to be awoken by the chills and shivering and chattering again. My feet were so cold I thought they might fall off. I wanted to get out of bed to get another pair of socks. A pair of socks from my dresser that was just a mere three feet away. But I was worried if I came out from under the covers I might turn in to an ice cube. So instead I curled up in to a ball, wrapped the covers tightly around my neck, and prayed for death.

By the morning I was sweating. It was so bad I was on the verge of having to wring out my t-shirt. And then all that wetness made me cold and I was shivering again. It was a viscous cycle. And I vowed to break up with my doctor right then and there.

By Tuesday night I was starting to feel like a person again. I was still going back and forth between chills and sweats, but I was no longer shivering or having to change clothes every 45 minutes. The aching in my muscles was less mack truck and more getting smacked with tennis balls thrown by a child. So I knew I was coming back from the dead.

By Wednesday there was just a little tightness left in my muscles and a lingering headache.

Today I’m just nursing a headache.

So still not 100%, but worlds better than the deathbed I was on on Monday night/Tuesday.

And next year? When my doctor bats his pretty little doctor eyes and tells me I really should get the flu shot since I’m high risk? I’m going to tell him to blow it out his ass.

Thanks to my chronic sinusitis and asthma I seem to get a cold whenever anybody with a little sniffle even looks in my direction. Then I can’t seem to ever get over a cold. It goes straight to my chest until I’m full-blown wheezing. It usually drags on for weeks and doesn’t end until I’ve begged my doctor for some Prednisone and maybe a little antibiotic.

Sometimes I call my doctor at the first cough and runny nose. Other times I try to wait it out just to see if this one time I can get over it without drugs. I never can.

I just saw my doctor about two weeks ago for my quarterly appointment. We have a standing date every three months to see how I’m doing and refill my prescriptions. I’ve turned in to an old lady with my days-of-the-week pill box stuffed with all my daily pills. I had a little tickle in my throat so I was worried I was on the verge of a cold, but the doc didn’t hear anything in my chest, and my nose, throat, and ears looked good so I went on my way.

Within just a few days it became clear that little tickle was turning in to a full blown cold; sinuses full, throat scratchy, nose and eyes watery, and ears hurting. But I just saw the doctor and didn’t really want to make two trips in one week. Plus I was busy getting caught up with homework and finishing up some work before I went on vacation.

On Monday (the first day of my vacation) I decided I couldn’t wait anymore. I needed to go to the doctor. She listened to my chest and said, “Well there’s a reason you aren’t feeling well. You have pneumonia. I can hear it in your left lung.”

Great.

I’m familiar with pneumonia. I get it about once a year. [Probably because I wait to freaking long to go to the doctor.] So I knew what was in store for me. Shots. In the butt.

The nurse came in to give me my shots. She looked apologetic as she said, “I have a steroid shot and an antibiotic shot. I need to put one in each butt cheek.”

I said, “I know. I’m familiar with the steroid shot. I’m pretty sure everybody in this office has seen my butt.”

“I haven’t,” she laughed.

“Well today’s your lucky day,” I joked.

Gotta keep your sense of humor when faced with pneumonia.