Funny, I’ve Always Considered Myself a Dog Person…

And yet I seem to have nine lives.

Which is to say that I am home from the hospital. For, oh, the third time in three weeks. {Note to self: does this mean I only have six dramas left?} Thank god somebody studied medicine is all I can say. And thank god we as a society have not rendered every antibiotic useless through overuse. Although, to be fair, I am using more than my share these days…

So, what to say except thank you for all of your calls and prayers and pep talks over the past week. Big thanks especially to the (suave, dashing? self-referential ;), guest blogger) baby daddy for taking such great dictation. Now if only I could get him to bring me coffee on demand and hold all my calls when I'm meeting with Larry Tate, he'd be the perfect assistant.

In all seriousness, I am not too proud to say that I definitely thought my number was up this time, no immune system and high fevers being what they are. And, reality being what it is, I've definitely won this battle but am still fighting the war (Don Rumsfeld: lose this number!)

I couldn’t even think about eating, and if you know me, you know that this denotes a critical situation. I was at NIH this time, and my beloved hottie nurse of years past was there, perhaps hotter than before. I was unshowered, sweating and freezing alternately, looking like I’d slept under a car in the rain, coughing up nasty stuff, and I simply couldn’t bring myself to care about my appearance. THAT was the gravest sign of all, my total lack of vanity in the presence of bona fide triathlete registered nursing hotness.

I thought about a lot of things as I lay in bed coughing up a lung and pondering my life to date. Yeah yeah, the usual “Have I been a good person?” “Do my friends know I love them?” “What did Bambina eat for dinner?” type stuff. But also the following, which may or may not have been the result of my febrile condition:

1. I’m inclined to think that, contrary to popular opinion, Prince Harry is actually the cuter one. Am I wrong?


2. What message is God sending via hemorrhoids? Heart attacks say “check your arteries.” Breathing difficulties say, “Check your lungs and heart.” Type 2 Diabetes says, “Radically rethink your diet and exercise.” What do hemorrhoids say? Are they akin to mosquitoes in that they serve no purpose other than straight-up affliction?
{I only ask because as I was languishing in my shivering/sweating feverishness I apparently developed one. Thereby proving once and for all that I am indeed 65 years old.}

3. If I were a man for 24 hours, how would I spend that day? Maybe one hour trying on tighty whities, boxers and boxer briefs to see which I preferred, two hours with my new Wii to figure out what all the fuss is about, four hours watching a Jackass/Beavis-Butthead/The Man Show marathon, two hours driving around in my *manual transmission* car (do I know any men with automatics? I don't think so...) and probably the rest of the time...hmm...maybe dreading some woman asking me, "What are you thinking?"

4. Why do doctors ask you to repeat your medical history to them when they are holding your file in their hands? Why do they ask you what your dose of a particular medicine in 2003 was, when I can’t remember what color of underwear I put on today?

5. What exactly is in eggnog anyway? Are there eggs in it? What is nog? If its such a special occasion festive drink why is it in the dairy section of the store in a plastic half gallon milk container?

6. If I get the chance to blog again should I mention the hemorrhoid or would that be in bad taste?

Apparently, YES to both.