This is me. Except I'm not in your house licking your straws. And the thought of drinking soda makes me a little queasy. In fact, the only things on my approved diet list right now are white rice and chicken soup. Sometimes I have some potato chips for salt, but I don't know why I'm craving salt since I drink at least a gallon of water a day. I drink the stuff non stop because my throat is continually parched and sore and needs an endless supply of hot water to soothe it. And sometimes I have a couple of mini Twix bars and some Red Vines. For variety. Though I've found that if I eat anything other than the rice and soup, my digestive system starts to malfunction and breaks down.

I've been sick for seven days. And not really getting any better. I finally went to the doctor today and got some meds. I've been out of work for 5 days so far -- 5 days! Starting last Thursday. I've worked from home on every single one of those days. I think Thursday and Friday, I'm going to try resting instead. Maybe that'll help me feel better.

I have a thing about going to the doctor. He never really tells me anything I don't know when I'm sick. I can probably fight off whatever I have on my own eventually. And it costs me money since he's outside my network (he used to be in my network which is why he's my doctor to begin with, but no longer is). Combine that with my father's diagnosis of "You'll be fine" to whatever it is I have all my life, and you can see how I have mixed feelings about going to the doctor.

But seeing the doctor makes me feel good -- he makes me feel better and I feel like I've done something good for myself. I like my doctor. Do I think he's a genius with an answer to every one of my questions? No, but he does pretty damn well and he makes me feel like he cares, he remembers my last visit, he's comforting to me. I've never had a doctor before that I felt that way about. He listens to my lungs, looks at my tonsils, listens to the symptoms and progression of my illness, he nods and listens and contributes to my descriptions. He gives me a list of meds to take for the symptoms that most bother me, and prescribes antibiotics.

Being sick is like living in someone else's body for a while -- your body is an alien to you. What is this weird slimy stuff coming out of my head? Why can't I eat the stuff I normally eat? Why can't I think? Every little act -- for example, leaving the house -- becomes an traumatic ordeal. I walked to Walgreen's on Easter Sunday -- 10 minute walk to the store and my body was sweating and chilled and I felt so uncomfortable both physically and mentally. Meds cramp up your tummy, food makes you sick. Your bowels are your enemy and your head is a giant cotton puff -- good for nothing but collecting lint. And like this, I think I can work. Eh...tomorrow I sleep.