I hate being sick.

My head feels like it is going to explode.
My throat is killing me.
My ears are ringing.
Every muscle in my body aches.
I have reached toxic levels of Tylenol, yet my fever keeps coming back.
I can't stop sneezing and my nose is stopped up.
Until the pizza that I ate for dinner, crackers have been the only thing that I could eat.

It has been trying to get me for a few days and finally, it did. This weekend, we ate Mexican food so Rusty is convinced that it is the swine flu. I am sure that the 36 week pregnant lady that I took belly shots of yesterday would not be happy to hear that theory.

I hate being sick.
I have laid in bed all day and other than the two loads of laundry that I did get done and the bills that I payed, I have been totally useless.
I wanted to cook dinner, but Rusty didn't want to eat anything that my germy hands prepared. He didn't want me breathing on his food. I had my feelings a bit hurt, but really I don't blame him. I just wanted to do something to feel like I am contributing to the running of this household.
I called in sick to work. I never do that. All day long I felt guilty that one of my coworkers might be having to pay the price for my absence. But, I really had no choice. How would you feel if your nurse was coughing and sneezing all over your newborn? Probably not a good idea.