Sick

I am a big baby when I get sick. I have strep, something I am prone to and get repeatedly unless I can convince the doctor to go after it with everything they have. There’s a shot that knocks it out, but they never give it to me first thing. I dread not getting the shot because I almost always have to go back after the pill antibiotics don’t work, and the strep comes back. Like I said, I am a big baby, laying around feeling sorry for myself.

They say that the hardest things to do after a loved one dies are the first times you do something that would have been together, something like that. First Christmas, birthdays, etc. I don’t think anyone has on their list first time puking your guts out all alone. Pretty miserable. But I had to laugh because all the times I puked, Melissa would say something like, “Dang, son, what’d you eat?” or “That doesn’t look like dinner did.” And inevitably the commentary on how did I keep that much inside me.

I think, finally, that the first things will be ok because there was always a lot of joy in what we did. So while it will be rough, it’ll also be good, because I can’t think of anything that I don’t remember with a smile or a laugh.

About the only thing that makes me feel better is a hot shower. Well, I am in the shower and Joe comes in and says there’s someone at the door. “Do you know who it is?” No, he didn’t so I told him to go look out the window. He said, “it’s a man and a woman.” “Do you know them?” “No, but she’s smiling and I think she’s nice.” So we had to have a quick talk about not opening a door or going with someone just because they’re smiling. He wouldn’t let it go, so I came to the door and it was Kim and Andy Newman with some beef stew.