What a weekend it was. A 13 hour round trip with a 15 year old and 9 year old to attend the funeral of a loved one and celebrate her life. It was wonderful and tragic and beautiful and exhausting. Throw into the mix some extensive teenage angst, news that our first home that we bought 14 years ago in a tiny community with a depressed economy is now worth SIXTY thousand dollars less than what we paid for it, and by the way the roof is leaking and our long time renters are moving out. And did you know they were hoarders? No. Neither did I. But our Realtor was happy to let us know right before he suggested that we consider just letting the bank take it over because selling it is going to be expensive. And right, we still owe HOW MUCH? I am not sure they let you carry a mortgage when you no longer own the home.
In other words I was fairly stressed. And then I got sick.
Yesterday I ended up in the hospital and was admitted for an overnight stay. 5 doses of morphine later, an embarrassing episode of explosive vomiting on an X-Ray tech and too many IV meds to count, I am feeling better. And still without diagnosis but lots of specialist appointments in my future. Fun. Fun.
I hate morphine. It knocks me flat, runs me over and leaves me for dead for about 24 hours. I think that was what the doctors had in mind when they gave it to me. Apparently I need to take a nap.