I cannot seem to get well. Dammitalltohell.

So...I woke up yesterday feeling like a turd on a stick, dipped in shit, and sprinkled with poop. 2/16, I went to the Minute Clinic with strep and a sinus infection. Ten days of antibiotics completed. Three days of feeling human. Next morning, yesterday, gah. Back to the Minute Clinic, where I tried, unsuccessfully to convince the nurse that I had strep AGAIN. Nope. The Rapid Strep was negative. Have to send off another culture. PUH-LEEEEEEEEEEZE, I'm telling you this is strep. I just had it a scant two weeks ago. I've not forgotten the searing pain of a throat that feels like it has been scoured with steel wool dipped in bleach! Nope. She stuck to her guns. And, well, good for her. One of my GIANT pet peeves as a former Infectious Diseases researcher that spent her entire career discovering nothing and reading about resistance is those that prescribe antibiotics willy nilly. So, I understood her point, but damn, I hurt!

Last night, I slept fitfully. Trying not to swallow due to pain and trying not to choke to death on my own spit because I was trying not to swallow due to pain. Human instinct to swallow rather drown won out and I ended up waking up, sporadically, in pain. Alas, I'm not dead due to spit drowning. Running on about 4-5 hours of sleep does not for a happy Boiler make. Toss in some pain and I'm ugly. Well, uglier than usual. The littlest of the Boiler Brats had a playdate scheduled and that allowed me to work on the quilt for the school fundraiser that was due last Friday. The fundraiser being this Saturday. That's me...always on time! *snort* It'll be done. No fear. And, I know I'm not the only one sliding in at the 25th hour.

Anyway, I got to work in peace and I forgot how cathartic sitting in front of the sewing machine could truly be. Several years ago, I made my Aunt a quilt and while I was working on it, I saw my hands morph into the weathered, aged, and oh so wise hands of my grandmothers. Both of my grandmothers were quilters. Out of all the grandchildren, I'm the only one to carry on the tradition. Well, so far. And, I might very well the LEAST likely of all the grandkids to carry on said tradition! Ever since that moment that took my breath away and left me in tears, tears of happiness, I see my grandmothers' hands when I sew. I lost my maternal grandmother 18 years ago. Wow, is it really 18 years?!? My paternal grandmother passed this past year, just shy of her 98th birthday. Both eccentric in their own ways, they gave so much to me in love and spirit and I'm so honored to be carrying on their tradition. But, I'd enjoy it more if I didn't feel like death warmed over!

So, as expected, yet another wrench in my running plans. Strep. I called off tennis this week. I think I really need to focus on getting myself healthy. And maybe getting more than four hours of sleep...