Sometimes when I am sick I secretly hope that I have some mildly severe or obscure disease so I have an exceptional reason for all my moaning and staying-home-from-workness AND I have rights to conjure up some spousal sympathy from the Kyle. I have been sick now for one full week. No, I don't have the pig flu. I do not have strep. I have, what is called, Achondrogenesis.
Ok I lied. It's the "common cold." Common eh? Why don't you just rub it in? This is going to get me zero sympathy. Who has sympathy for someone with the common cold? With this news, I am officially done with this stupid virus and since I am forced to be at work (due to lack of ample sick time) I might as well be better, but don't you think?
No one wants to go to the doctor and find out they can do nothing for her sickness. No one. This is why I love my doctor. I don't quite yet have a sinus infection, and I don't quite yet have pneumonia, but he sent me home with an emergency prescription for a 3-day antibiotic. You know, just in case.
Just between me and you, I don't think I'll be needing it this time; I'm pretty sure I'm on the mend. But do please be kind and offer some "oh poor you" or "I'm so sorry you're sick" when you see me. You see, I am the youngest child and need all the sympathy attention I can get. I'm pretty sure it will heal me.
Speaking of, here is something not so sympathetic: last night I started to lose my voice and Kyle called me "Peter." Apparently my voice sounds like a man's. You know how that happens when you're sick and your voice starts to go but instead just gets really deep? Really though, Kyle is just jealous that I can now sing along with Bing Crosby better than he can.
I know, I know, you must really feel sorry for me now. I graciously accept your sympathy.