Hazy Memories

I’ve been home for a few days now, got home Saturday late in the afternoon. My memories of the last week or so are hazy at best, between the morphine and oxycodone, it gets hard to remember.

I do, however, remember this:
Painpainpain lots of it.
My sweet BFF Whit, curling up on the hard-as-hell horrible mattress, sleeping by me at night because she knew I would hurt more if I were alone.
Brandon bringing me fuschia gerber daisies, my favorite.
My mom, coming to stay with me at the drop of a hat, keeping Cade safe and warm and loved, because she is his second favorite person in the world (after me, of course).
A visit from a friend I haven’t seen in years, to bring me a Diet Coke and the softest blanket I’ve ever felt.
Lana, coming to visit at 10 pm and not leaving till midnight, bringing chocolate shakes and Mean Girls, and contemplating having a slumber party with me…
Brandon, my Mom, cleaning my wound, not acting grossed out when I’d need help going to the bathroom or cleaning up my pukage, like someone else would be.
Patience and love and concern from everybody I know.
My sweet little boy, at home, wondering where his mommy could be? Fat tears rolling down his cheeks, bawling, and saying to his daddy, “I wanna see Mommy. I want Mommy come home. Pwease I wanna see Mommy pwease pwease!”
My son insisting on sleeping on his mommy’s pillow while she was gone, because it comforted him.
Weak. So terribly weak. I walk as if I’m 80 years old, hunched over because standing up straight causes incredible pain.
A swollen stomach with a huge tube coming out of it. It's damn attractive.
I’m terribly thin, have lost even more weight. I look terrible, even I, the seasoned anorexic, can see how terrifying I look.
Funny, wide-looking eyes, that have a far away look in them all the time. Painkillers will do that to ya. It’s pretty wild.

So I’ve lied in bed for the past few days, well enough, thank the Lord, to be home, but not well enough to do much of anything else. I still cannot go to work…don’t know when I’ll be back. I need time so that I can get stronger, not look like I’m literally dying when I go back. I’m just so WEAK. Moving is hard, still.

The surgery took a terrible toll on my body.

But at least I’m home, can wipe those tears from my baby’s eyes. I can remember how happy he was to come pick me up from the hospital, wearing his new yellow and blue plaid shorts and his Cars backpack, excitedly riding in the wheel chair with me down to the car. I can remember that he’s beautiful and he’s perfect and he needs his Mommy.

And that reminds me of what I need to do: pump the hell out of my stomach with BOOST. Yeah, baby!

How About a Real Update?

Well, still in the craptastic hospital. I was totally hoping they’d let me bounce today, but no deal. Probably sometime tomorrow or Sunday. Bonus though, at least I have now procured my laptop so I’ve got at least something to do other than watch crappy TV and listen to the old lady next door to me hack.

Official diagnosis:
Local Peritonitis. I’ve had it before. Remember that? Totally icky and totally almost like killed me but fortunately they caught it way fast enough for something like that to happen this time around. I KNEW something was wrong, I could feel it. I'm glad I got it checked out pronto because things could be really bad right now if I had ignored it...

Still in a great deal of pain, though I can now go about two hours without either Percocet or Morphine. My blood pressure is getting better too, which is good. For the past few days it’s hung out at or around 80/50, which made doing anything but lying down, trying to not pass out, pretty impossible. My potassium and sodium was off too for a few days, and I was extremely dehydrated, but they’re thinking that after my last bag of fluids they just started, I hopefully won’t need anymore. I’m having pee issues too – like, it’s totally hard to go. And it’s brown. I manage to squirt a little out every now and again though, which leaves me about as impressed with myself as parents are with their honor students.
Shutup I’m so amazing!

Can’t yet start feedings with the PEG – not until the pain is better managed and I’m tolerating food more. As soon as I do in a few days, I’ll have to get my electrolytes checked every other day to make sure I’m not dealing with re-feeding again, especially as I’ve been so dehydrated and screwed up lately. I’ll be starting EXTREMELY SLOW - 10 mL/hour which is seriously like nothing…but within a couple weeks I’m sure I’ll joyously be getting aplenty, no kidding. I’ve been on a mostly liquid-sipping diet, seeing as when I was admitted I had bright red vomit all over me. I find it highly ironic that this place is like turning me anorexic again. I know I’ve lost weight (who wouldn’t after not eating or drinking anything for 3 days?) and I’m moaning and grumping that I’M FREAKING HUNGRY but that apparently isn’t like the “priority” right now. Seriously, so weird! Eating is supposed to ALWAYS be the priority with me, I mean am I right?

And, just for a little fun, I thought I’d post this pic Bran took of me when I was in recovery from the surgery. I look so sad! Haha. If only I knew what horrors lied ahead…

Lotsa thanks to my fam and friends throughout all this. Both Brandon and Whit have been rock stars, and each braved a night on the taco-shaped cot right next to me. I know I’m like a big girl or whatever, but it was still so comforting to have someone with me. Mom, Alana…my sisters…all of you who have emailed and texted your love and concern, thanks so much! It means a lot.

Peace out sluts. Hopefully tomorrow I’ll blow this joint. And I will, of course, keep you updated. The morphine’s wheee ooooh wow totally kicking in, I betsa be going.

I Got in a Fight with the PEG & it Totally Kicked my Trash

Hey everyone,

This will be brief because I'm a)on morphine b) in pain and c) typing this from my phone.

I've been in the hospital for two days, there's been complications from the PEG tube placement. Low blood pressure & off electrolytes...but mostly an insane amount of pain...another complication mostly due to an extremely low body weight...long story, more later on that.

I'd say the best part of my week was vomiting a geyser of red contrast dye from the CAT scan. We were in the car all the way to the hospital & I puked all over myself like a 2 year old. End up staggering in with sticky smelly boobies...totally classic Brie, no kidding.

Hoping to go home tomorrow, they're working on managing my pain so that I don't have to be on morphine every 1 - 2 hours. Percocet just ain't cuttin' it yet.

So, yeah. Whoever said that PEG placement surgery was a piece of cake obviously doesn't doesn't know how much my body hates me.

I Have One Classy Child

Shall we examine the evidence?

-Last summer's polo that's entirely too short for his 'lil midriff.
-Cars tennies with no socks.
-And, my favorite: his cousin's daisy dukes. Did I mention his cousin is a chick? He was wearing them, because I quote in his own sweet, adorable words, "My peeped my pants, Mommy! My peeped my pants!"

It's a long story.
Love you, Mini Man. Thanks for keeping me going.



Don't you just want to eat those adorable looking drum sticks???

PEG Pros and Cons & also, the Weather Sucks

I hate Utah. On Saturday it was 75 degrees. We went to the zoo, and I didn’t even need a jacket. I got to get all OCD in the monkey house and worry about pee air in the bird building. I got to swear at the porcupines because for some reason I always do when I see them. I got to sweat, not shiver.

This morning, it’s 38 degrees. And it’s snowing. I got to put on my (totally rockin’) Puma boots again and pull out my thick, warm coat. I got R.T. on the way to my car. And I got to curse stupid storm clouds for ruining my luscious locks.

Oh my frustration to the max.

Okay, so
Surgery time scheduled for tomorrow afternoon at 2:30.

Pros of having a PEG vs an NJ:
1. No plumbing system will be attached to my face
2. No more double or triple takes from rejects on the sidewalk
3. It will now be easier to hide my pain – physically and emotionally (haha)
4. I won’t have to ask Brandon if the tube makes my face look fat
5. No more headaches, rashes, and potential aspirating (breathing is gooooooood)
6. Painkillers
7. Living

Cons:
1. I guess, for now, I’ll have to take a leave of absence from that stripper job I procured
2. No tight shirts (So what, I have to go naked? I don’t even know what baggy shirts are!)
3. No swimsuits, and summer is fast approaching
4. NO SWIMMING - did I MENTION SUMMER WAS FAST APPROACHING???
5. I’ll have a HOLE IN MY STOMACH
6. Another scar on the tum-tum
7. No more sleeping on my tummy
8. Will it make me look like I have, you know, a weenie?

Okay, so there is one more con than pro, but that whole #7 on the pros column kinda trumps everything else. I think.

More later homies. Pictures later (if I dare).

Okay, Well, PEG Tube, Here I Come

I'm scheduled (at this point) for surgery early this week (I'm thinking Tues or Wed) to get the PEG tube placed.

I'm okay with it. I think it's what I need right now.

We Believe You

Sorry I’ve been quite the downer lately. This whole lung thing has just hit me pretty hard, I guess. Feeling a wee bit ‘mo chipper today, though, so that’s good.

Unforuntately…I don’t have much to say – unless you wanna hear more doom boom you’re gonna die gloom. Wait, you do? Okay!

…Probably have to get a feeding tube again in the next week or so. Have no idea if it’ll be an NJ or a G, but there’s a strong likelihood it’ll be a G since I’m allergic to all that crap taped to my face and going in my nasal orifices. (Seriously I hate that O word. It's the bad one. Nast.) But you know, I’ve been fighting that for so long. (getting the tube, dealing with it, taking it out, having to get it placed again, etc) and do you all realize that I’ve had an NG or an NJ tube on and off for almost a freaking year? That's yuck buckets, right there.
But
To talk to my dietician yesterday, and for her to say, “Brie, I KNOW you’re doing so much better with your eating. I KNOW that you are taking tremendous leaps and bounds with your eating disorder behaviors. I BELIEVE YOU. But right now, despite everything you’re doing, it’s not enough. BUT THAT’S OKAY. Most people with lung disease have feeding tubes for the very reason you will have to get one – because they simply use too many calories trying to get adequate oxygen. But I believe you, Brie. I know this isn’t all your anorexia sucking the weight off you. You're sick. Let's fix it.”

Well shit. Finally! That’s all I’ve wanted – for people to believe me. To believe that I’m eating, and not lying about it. And finally, as horrible as this whole lung diagnosis has been, at least we know what’s going on, why it’s extremely difficult for me to gain weight and maintain, and maybe, just maybe we can try to fix it now.

Seriously, all I freaking care about right now is that my treatment team doesn’t think I’m still hardcore in my anorexic behaviors and lying about it. For so, so long, that’s what they thought. All I heard was you’re in denial, neener neener neener…and it seriously made me burn hot hot hottt with anger. Of course I could be eating better, yes, but I think that is a looooong process every single recovering anorexic will have to go through. But for people to finally acknowledge that Hey, yeah, Brie has been doing pretty good feels sooooooo good. My lungs feel bad, but that, my friends, feels good.

It’s nice to have people believe you. And in you, I might add. :)

Alive

I didn’t sleep well last night. Finally, at 4 am, I got out of bed and took a bath. I looked at my body, and I saw all of my ribs and hip bones. I saw a collarbone you can grab with your entire fist, and knobby shoulders and concaves and hollows where there shouldn’t be.
I see these things every day, but this time, I really saw it.

I shouldn’t be so tired all the time, so broken. I’m 24, and my lungs barely work. I’ve done this all to myself.

And then I cried. A lot.
And then I prayed. A lot.

And I got out of the bath and crawled back into bed with Brandon, wriggled into his arms.
“What’s up, Babe?"
And I say
“I’m scared.”
and
"I don't want to be sick anymore."

And he pulls me closer to him, by his neck, tucked just under his chin, where I fit just right. He traces circles on my back with his fingers, and I can feel him there, his warm pervasive presence, his solidity, his vitality, and I can breathe just a little easier, literally, because I know that I am safe.

And finally, for the first time in awhile, I feel a little bit more alive.

Lung Functioning Freak Out

Eeewsies. Guys, I have some no bueno news:

So I saw the allergist today, and he absolutely freaked the flip out. My lungs are only functioning at 40%, which is the worst it’s ever been. They actually brought in a different testing machine because they thought the one I used was broken, which he was hoping would explain why my lungs are so bad, but turns out it is indeed my faulty lungs, and not a faulty machine.

And the thing that’s scary…my asthma today is pretty good. I’m not wheezing, I haven’t had to use my inhaler…but that’s actually a BAD thing because if my lungs are only working at 40% (100% is normal) it means that my lungs don’t work, even if my asthma is under control. Seriously guys I’ve never seen him like this, he was freaking out and said I was a high-risk asthmatic candidate to “expire” and when I come back in a week if I don’t get better he won’t see me anymore because I guess he doesn’t freaking want my blood (or bad lungs) on his hands.

AND THEN and then he asked me point-blank if I’m anorexic, because I’m so thin. I told him that I am a recovering anorexic, and he told me something interesting – that a likely reason I’m so thin and have a very difficult time gaining weight is because my lungs are burning more than double the amount of calories they normally would, just to function and give me oxygen. He hypothesized that if we can get my lungs working again then it would most likely be easier for me to gain weight. He also said that just like some anorexics have heart problems or whatever from the affects of malnutrition, etc, I have lung problems from all the years of damage I’ve done.

My IeG levels are also off the charts…it detects like allergens in my blood or whatever, so on top of getting 12 allergy shots a month, I also have to get 4 extra shots a month to help control my asthma…he said for his other patients, the most he gives them is 2. And I get 4. Wha--?

You guys, this is so real, so scary. I’ve never really taken my asthma seriously. I mean, I take my meds and stuff, but whenever I hear that I’m going to like die from it or whatever, I brush it off because it sounds insane. But he scared the blanking blank out of me. He said that if my lungs get worse, a simple cold will put me in the ICU because my lungs won’t be able to fight the virus or something and I’ll stop breathing. So he way upped the steroids I’m taking, so I guess we’ll see in a week if it helps…

But if they’re not better in a week, what do I do?

Why am I so broken?

Brie’s sad.

The Cost of Both Falling & a Heavy Flow

Morning friends.

Hope you all had a lovely weekend. Mine was just fine. A little boring, maybe, but hey I can’t complain. On Saturday morning I’d say I was suffering from some mild to kinda sorta might have perhaps been bordering on moderate depression but that eventually went away. And I don’t know what’s up with me lately, but I keep giving myself some major battle scars:

So the shiner I mentioned a few posts ago? Yeah, I gave that to myself. We all know I have allergies like there’s no tomorrow, and itching my eyes feels sooooo good (even though I know it’s sooo bad!) and I guess I rubbed my righty just a wee too much and ended up bruising it myself.
AND THEN
On Friday afternoon I went outside to ripstick, and I fell harder than I ever have before. Usually when I fall, I see it coming so I can kind of try to catch myself or break my fall, but this giant crack from Hades was like just there all up in my grill, and I never saw it coming, and my front wheel got stuck in it and I went flying. I landed on my right side: shoulder, elbow, wrist, hip, and knee. I swear to you that I laid there for about 13 seconds sure I had broken something or maybe even DIED. And I didn’t but wow I’ve got some bruises: my wrist/hand, a giant beauty on my knee, and even one on my hip/bum/thigh bone. It took me a few hours after the biff from hell to dare get back on the stick. But I did. And I haven’t fallen again (yet).

Anyway so in the last week I’ve given myself a bruised eye, shoulder, elbow, hand, hip, and knee. Pretty impressive track record. To beat my remarkable resume, you’ll either need a death wish or be the biggest moron on earth. Good luck with that!

Man. I forgot that periods are like giant douche monsters. And I swear I haven’t bought a box of tampons since 2003. Since when did they jack up the price? My hell. $9.99 for a box of supers? It’s only a little plastic, and er, like cotton or something. How can that cost that much? What are they going to do next? Make them out of sterling silver? Mother of pearl? My goodness! I was outraged! I wouldn’t have bought them except Whit so lovingly reminded me that I had no other choice because, like, toilet paper and cotton balls didn’t work for the pioneers and it certainly won’t work for me. Tampon-Maker Jerks know that and that’s why they know they can charge however much $$ they want. Brie’s sad!

Okay, well, I’m off. Much work to be done ‘round here. Le sigh.

T.S.S.

Many of you no doubt are thinking that T.S.S. stands for Toxic Shock Syndrome – you know that weird disease that you can procure if you leave a tampon in for too long or whatever?

But.

I am talking about another T.S.S.: Tampon Seriously Stuck.

There is, I’d say, mmmm, about an 85% chance I’ve got TWO up there right now. They’re elusive little buggers, aren’t they? (Where is that damn string?)

Also I'd say this is satisfactory evidentiary support that I am indeed losing my mind.

And I think it is now time for me to go to the doctor.
Quickly!

I Seem to Have a Bit of a Shiner

Back in the Day Thursday

I’m five now. My stomach hurts terribly. I have a fever, and I cry. I can’t stop crying. My older brothers tease me and tell me to stop faking a stomach ache to get more attention from Mom. I’m mad because I know I’m not faking, I’m so sick and I hurt so much. I scream and writhe in pain. Mom takes me to the doctor after two days of getting worse, not better. The doctor (whom I HATE and am terrified of) tells me that she has to get me to the hospital immediately because my appendix are about to burst. I’m in the backseat, and Mom’s speeding on the freeway, trying to get me up to Primary Children’s. She’s scared, and I can see her trying to hide her tears. I’m doubled over, begging her that I’m fine my tummy ache will go away soon I promise Mom please just take me home I’m scared I don’t need to go to the hospital please please please.

I’m rushed into surgery. My appendix ruptures when they open me up. I am saved just in time. I’m in the hospital for a week, and I’m scared. Mom can’t leave me, or else I’ll die. I know it. I get toys and treats, and I like it. But I miss Brett.

I’m home now, but I’m sick again. I have a bad fever and my tummy hurts again. Back to the hospital, the doctor says. I scream again and fight and fight and fight to not go, because I know I’ll die. I know it. More surgery. They hadn’t gotten out all the poison when my appendix burst. I’m really sick. I could die, I hear the doctors telling my mom. The world isn’t safe anymore. I don’t want to die. But I have no control over that.

A month later, I return to school, 10 lbs lighter but much, much heavier. The weight of the world is on me now, because I know it’s not safe and bad things happen and I could die and I’m so scared.

And that affected me for a long, long time.
Far too long.

Three

It seems I have been tagged. And because my life is currently as boring as American Idol is when all four judges critique each singer for 8 minutes EACH, I thought I might as well do this little gem fer ya:

3 Random thoughts I’ve had today:
1. I want to meet Rachel in Beaver.
2. Today I am SpongeBrie Baggy Pants.
3. I think my pee pee smells like beefy noodles.

3 good things that have happened today:
1. I found the contract for A____ Memorial Hospital. My boss was going to eat me if I didn’t. So phew.
2. The DOW is back in the 7,000’s. Go stocks! Woohoo!
3. I’m quite enjoying (and very surprisingly) the Diet Pepsi Wild Cherry flavor of soda. Didn’t think it’d whet my whistle this morning, but turned it out totally hit my spot!

3 bad things that have happened today:
1. I woke up with a swollen eye. Fuzzy memory here, but I think my son might’ve kicked me a good one last night while I was sleeping eva so sweetly.
2. Three (YES, THREE) people at work have told me I look “terrible,” “sick,” and “you look really sick you should go home.” Dudes, I feel fine. I might look like a battered wife with the whole eye thing, but seriously – “TERRIBLE?” And what am I supposed to say to that? Um. Thanks?
3. Wednesday isn’t a great TV night because Lost is doing a re-run. Boo! What am I supposed to do tonight? Something active? Productive? Wha--?

3 things I’m going to do today:
1. Buy a kitty condo for my prissy felines. Their claws are in desperate need of scratchage, and my sofa is afraid it’ll be their next victim.
2. G-rocery shop.
3. Write some more of my thing.

You know, that I’m writing.

3 people I tag:
1. Tawn Tawn
2. Pattie over at Vintage Mafia
3. Shep, the original bad-ass maltipoo

Married White Female Actively Seeking Health – Not Just Recovery. Ideas (or even just sympathy) Wanted.

M and I had an interesting sesh yesterday. I was telling her how I feel I’ve come a long way in that I’m no longer hell-bent on destroying myself. Before I was like, “Hey if it hurts and is bad for me then wheeeee I’m totally in!” but now I’m valuing myself enough or whatever to steer clear of that shiz. So M wants me to come up with 3 goals this week for working toward a better health and general feeling of well-being, not just recovery, because they’re technically two different things.

Like, with recovery, I can eat REAL things besides cereal mixed with water and splenda or “sandwiches” (a saltine with sugar-free jelly on it) and be fine. More than fine, actually. If you tried to make me go back to that tasteless crap I used to eat, I’d beg to be shot first. So yeah, that’s part of recovery. EATING. (Who woulda thought?!)

But actually taking care of myself, working toward optimum health is different. For example, I still have the hardest frickin’ time taking vitamins. My D begs me to take a supplement and calcium daily, but I won’t. (I do, however; like Gummy Vites, but they don’t count cuz they’re for kids. Eating two – the recommended serving – apparently isn’t enough for me. I guess I have a lot of surface area…? Gross.)
So anyway when my treatment team asks me why I won’t take vitamins, it’s just like this default reaction in me to not allow myself to take them, because I know they’d actually be good for me, and I don’t deserve something like that, right?
Right?

I mean, that’s how I still think a lot of the time. It’s hard to switch my brain outta that. But I need to, because if I don’t, I’m always going to fighting against those lame pervasive thoughts that tell me I’m not good enough for good things and that I don’t deserve carrots cuz they actually might do my sad ‘lil self some good. This is so frustrating. Does anyone else relate?

So, I know that one goal I’d like to make is to take vites. Is it lame that I’m freaked out about it?
…But coming up with two more is going to be quite the roughie for me. Ideas or experiences are much appreciated, mis chicas bonitas. Gracias!

Better bounce now. Peace.

Back to the Daily Grindage

Playing catch up after being sick is almost as bad as being sick itself. Dealing with 5 days of missed work and an unkempt home after icky sicky is no bueno. And cleaning – even my own dirtiness(!) – is a yuck fest. Like, I totally forget that I do not need to be repulsed by my own hair in the shower, (butbutBUT it’s so nasty!) or that the garbage needs to be taken out – not just stared at warily, hoping it’ll take itself out. When I’m well, I try to keep up on the house – but going a week without lifting a finger turned me into a giant prissy feline. (But shutup you wouldn’t have wanted to wash the “bean bowl” either. So wrong!)

So, back to the daily grindage. I came into work with – no joke – 104 unread work emails. Do you know how truly disgusting that is? It makes me want to vomit all over my Express Editors. And the only way out of this pile ‘o gross is to actually go through it. You know the old, tired adage – the only way out is through? So, so unfortunately true. Si, suerte!

Do you guys like my headband? It hurts me. Le sigh. Beauty (or maybe just accessories) is pain. (And that includes my yellow fingernail polish, which isn’t going over nearly as spectacularly as I’d hoped. It reminds me a bit of 70’s themed mucus.)
But anyway you better like it, because it’s cutting off the circulation to my face. (Seriously I didn’t even know you could do that.)

I'm Back, Kinda

Hello lovers! I missed thee all immensly! I've totally been out of the loop FOREVER. Influenza's a real doozy. I seriously have over 100 blog posts to read, so be patient - I have much catching up to do!

So on Monday I got the root canal, then got really sick...then on Thursday Cade woke up from his afternoon nap with a fever, and by 10 'o clock that night I was catching his pukecicles in my hands. Got like 2 hours of zzz's that night, it was awesome.

Started feeling better yesterday, and even got some decent ripsticking time in. SERIOUSLY. Never going to take for granted my health and well-being again. Yea verily.

So not much to say, as not much has gone on in my household other than fevers and pukes and moans and I-hate-my-lifes. Tomorrow is back to normal, and I'm SO NOT looking forward to going back to work after an entire missed week. It's going to be insane.

Okay, I'll go now. This post is boring and lame. I'll write something interesting just as soon as something interesting happens. On to blog reading...

And the Sick Continues

Went to the doctor today, turns out I've got the hardcore influenza virus. A simple flu bug unfortunately isn't all that I've got going on. I'm soooo sick; I haven't been able to read blogs or do much more than anything but moan and curse my luck.

Hopefully I'll be around this weekend - but more realistically - pry next week. :(

Miss you all...

Soooo Sick

Sooooo sick. Idaho this weekend was no fun because I had a massive toothache. I haven't had a cavity in years and years because don't you need to eat to have them? But now I eat and my tooth hurt so bad so I went to an emergency appt with my dentist yesterday and I had a really complicated root canal (SHRIEK!) so he referred me to an endodentist or something I don't know how you spell it and I was really freaked out and I saw him coming toward me with the shots and I was like Oh, HELL no, and then I started mildly wimpering and was telling him that I wish my husband was here to hold my hands, I'm so scared, and he asked if I wanted his assistant Mackenzie to hold them, and I know he meant it as a joke, but I said YES PLEASE and I squeezed her hands tight while I was getting the shots and then I saw this metal hook and I was thinking this is a murder weapon, not a tool of healing! And I wanted to set boundaries and tell him he couldn't put that in my mouth but I ended up not saying anything and the whole thing really sucked.

I finally got home after hours and hours and my face was all swollen and I took a nap to sleep off the anesthesia and then I woke up feeling like a mini cooper hit me and I had a fever and once I knew this guy who had a freaking root canal and he DIED from an infection and I know fever is a sign of infection so I called the doc and he doesn't seem too worried, just put me on antibiotics and told me I must have a "really weak" immune system, but I still have a fever today and feel HORRIBLE so maybe it's just the flu? I don't know but it all totally blows.

Back to sleep now.