Notes From The Sickbed

1. I am no longer quarantined, as what I’m suffering from today isn’t contagious. But I am rather laid up after a near fainting spell during my IV. I could tell I was very depleted when I went to the doc’s office this morning, and my body didn’t make the adjustment very well. That is, the adjustment it takes to process the IV contents. Shaun says that during these near fainting episodes, I look as though I’m going into shock, and having done some research on the symptoms of shock, I might agree. My neck and extremities get icy cold, I start to shake, feel weak, am dizzy, and just feel like things will go black any second due to all the blood rushing to my vital organs. Somehow, I stayed conscious today, but in the aftermath, I sure feel like a pooped on cow pie. You know. To be honest.

And I’m not actually in the sick bed this minute. I just got up, put Calvin the bunny in the front yard to stretch his legs, and I’m sitting in the sun that is about to take a leave of absence for six long months … oh wretched thought, oh wretched reality.

But, after sun, bed.

2. I have an appointment next Tuesday at a fancy schmancy hospital that supposedly employs doctors who will help me get the nutrition for which I am getting rather desperate. If you’re a praying reader, I invite you to pray for me that day, as I will be way off my sleep schedule which means I will be sick which means it will be difficult to articulate my woes and worries. Shaun will be along, as the voice that speaks when mine fails.

3. Poor Colorado Rockies. It was a tough wild card game, and one I hear is being investigated. Perhaps the Diamondbacks cheated? Weird. If it’s true, I will wonder why anyone on live television would think they could get away with such a stunt. Time will tell. In the meantime, at least there’s football. I dare you to watch this video, which is a good indication of how things were not long ago. Back when we were actually the United States of America, at least to a decent degree.

4. But back to baseball. And beards. What is it with the massive Bluto beards baseball players are sporting nowadays? Is that sexy? When the Diamondback pitcher was being interviewed after the game, I couldn’t even concentrate on his words. That big ol’ beard of his captivated me instead. Suddenly, I found myself wondering how many peanuts and cracker jacks might be (wittingly or unwittingly) stored in that bushy bushy blonde red facial hair-do. Seriously so distracting.

But then, I kinda get it. When my Mom got home a few days ago, she gave me a picture of my Dad. I want to share it. But it’s just too personal and I can’t bring myself to just stick it on the web like a disposable post-it note. It’s not disposable. Not to me. So I won’t post it. But I will say that in the picture, he has the biggest, bushiest, coal black beard, just as I remember him all the days of my childhood. He really stole the show in that picture, even though he was posing with a well-known actress.

Why do I appreciate Dad in a beard and not baseball players? I can only shrug and say it might have something to do with the absence of sweat, spit, and possibly sunflower seeds.

5. Last, but not least, I’d just like to lament that Longmire Season 6 isn’t out yet, and I’m left dangling with suspense, just like the producers wanted. Normally, that’s fine. Like when you only have a week until the next episode. But having to wait indefinitely is not fine. It’s torture. Akin to baking an apple pie and not being able to sink my teeth into a single crumb of it, which I know much about.

It’s really not healthy to be so involved in a TV show, and I’m still disappointed in myself for sulking around the house about my inability to watch an episode here and there. But I can’t help that I am a country girl living in the city. Watching Longmire is a way of coping with that reality, okay? Don’t judge. And if you absolutely have to judge, do it on someone else’s blog. Or just go Facebook a while and get in an argument with some redneck gun toter. That’d be fun and profitable.

I guess until Longmire airs again, I’ll just go watch Ronald Reagan speeches or something.

Until next time, when I’m well again and not as cross … toodle-oo.