An irreverent look at motherhood and family life in a new state of normal.

Thursday, November 11, 2010

A History of Illness

I have not been able to shake this coldish thingy that is hanging around in my throat and making me laugh like a smoker. In honor of the fluish, coldish, whatever season, I'm going to recount the last several times I have endured this punishment.

When I was a Junior in high school, I had this same phlegmy thing that hung around for a month before we went on a vacation to California where my parents insisted I was fine and went off to spend time with... I don't even remember who now, leaving me with my Aunt and Uncle who discovered me in bed with a fever of 104. Parents returned, took me home to Alamosa where is was discovered that my phlegm had turned into pneumonia and I was put into the hospital for several days. (May I mention that if my parents had not changed our tickets and taken us home early, we would not have gone home for several weeks as the next day, the airports were flooded and no flights could leave for more than a week. God works miracles so his children can be in hospitals near their own homes.)

Just after I married Andy, I had the phlegmy thing again. We headed out to Ecuador as sponsors for a mission trip where it was discovered that I had a fever of 102 and my phlegm had once again turned into pneumonia. I spent the majority of the trip sequestered in the hotel. (May I point out that this is one of the only mission trips where the students were put up in a nice hotel. God works miracles every day. Can you imagine having pneumonia in some third world school gym?)

So now the phlegm is back and I'm not sure what to do about it. Should I race off to Mandi (my new doctor) and get a prescription or should I follow the family tradition of claiming its all going to be ok until we are strapped to a hospital bed (and in our heads still ringing up the total)?

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