Home Sick

When I was little, being home sick was actually somewhat fun. I mean, even if you were confined to bed, at least mom was there to check on you every so often and sometimes she would even bring you a cup of Sprite or chicken noodle soup(which is why, to this day, I can't smell either one without getting a little sick to my stomach).

As an adult, being home sick is nothing more than a self-enforced torture. This morning, I went to work even though I woke up feeling awful. When I got there, I decided that I didn't feel well enough to stay. I got all worked up about telling the doctor because I knew that he would want to run every blood test known to man before he would let me go home and rest in peace.

TWO HOURS later, after ascertaining that I am indeed NOT pregnant (this is the fifth pregnancy test for me in less than a year), that my heart, liver, kidney, pancreas, and thyroid functions are perfectly within normal limits (he also checked for blood clots, glucose levels, cholesterol levels, and total blood count), he finally let me go home (but not before he asked me if I wanted to go to the hospital so he could run even MORE tests. Ummm...I'm not DYING! I just feel like I'm going to faint and throw up all over you!).

Now, here I am, sitting in my house all alone. I am currently very aware that there is garbage to be taken out, a dishwasher that needs unloading and reloading, and a floor that needs to be vacuumed. I am also fretting over the fact that I don't have a single paid sick day to take (that's right...I work at a doctor's office where I have no medical insurance and no paid sick leave...NONE) and therefore, my paycheck will be even more meager than it usually is (not a good thing with the holidays coming up). And, I have no energy to do anything more than sit in the bed with my mind racing 10,000 miles per minute.

All that thinking is just making me more sick. I think I might need to be sedated.