just call me typhoid mary

Last night I was feeling good. I walked more than a little. I logged all the food I ate and I ate much better for the last week. Not great. Better. I was all smug and proud of myself. I was back on track. Then I got a text from the hospital app.

Now we all know how much I love the ducking app from the hospital. It is as annoying as hell. It beeps constantly since I've had all this testing done for my surgery on Friday. And I have a lot to do -- Grading, clean the house, shop for groceries for my sister and myself, and come up with some other plans for laundry. I have to make my worst case scenario lists for my niece. (I've already set up this blog and email account to self-destruct in three months if it is idol.)

When I read the pre-surgery book early Monday morning (They gave me a whole 24-page book. 8.5x11.) it said I might not be able to lift anything or clean for 6 weeks. Shit. That's a long time. I wanted to check out some services. Well more like independent people to pay to clean a couple times. Six weeks for the kitchen and bath is a long time. And I'm still struggling with what to do about laundry. I took the trash out last night, thinking I'd be good for two or three weeks. My trash person probably wondered what the heck was up.

At dinner time the phone beeped. I had a "new test results" text.  I figured it was my covid test. I've had covid and the damn vaccine, so it should be negative, right? WRONG.

 

 

Last night I was mad. Today, I've been trying to reach someone to talk to. Do I take another test? Is it a false positive. Do I really have to self isolate? And what about my sister. Should she be tested? What about her catheter. I was hoping it would come out tomorrow. I can't even take her to the doctor and is she even allowed to go? So many things to think about.

If I have this again, I know I got it at the ducking hospital ER. Every time I take my sister to the ER I test positive. I firmly believe that hospitals make you sick. For me, it is no coincidence that I got the scabbies after my D&C.

 

If my surgery is rescheduled I'll have to do all these stupid tests again--blood work, chest x-ray, ekg, covid. What if it comes back positive the next time? 

 

My reaction last night. Hell, you know me well enough to know that I'm a stress eater. I ate what little crap food was left in the house. Two creamsicles, two peanut butter Tandykakes, and a 30 ounce coke. After minimal sugar for a week, I'm surprised I was not sick. On the positive side I did not pull out the Girl Scout cookies from the freezer. I did not log these things. I share my shame here instead.

Now I wait for people to call me back. I'm not good at waiting. Too bad most of the junk food in the house is gone. Maybe I could make Brownies or cookies. But I can't. I'd eat them all before they were cool.