where wildly different is perfectly normal
Happy #$^%#&$ Birthday
Happy #$^%#&$ Birthday

Happy #$^%#&$ Birthday

Happy #$^%#&$ BirthdayIn a year’s worth of days, there are usually a few that stand out, no? Ones you’d like to acknowledge and perhaps celebrate. Major holidays, such as Thanksgiving and Christmas, come to mind. Days like your anniversary (or Divorceiversary, if that applies). Birthdays of your children and significant other, even if, like me, you’re not much of a party planner and would rather scoop your eyes out with a spork than plan something. And…your own birthday.

My birthday was yesterday and I got to spend part of it in the ER. And, just to shake things up and keep us on our toes, this time it was for me. Because nothing, and I mean nothing, screams hey let’s ring in year 43 with vertigo, nausea, vomiting, and dehydration. I have no idea what came out of nowhere and attempted to abduct my will to live, but it came screaming into my life first thing Thursday morning and is still giving me the shifty side-eye today. After a few hours of bad Food Network (seriously, I don’t have cable…when did it become the Guy Fieri channel? I miss Emeril, at least with him I learned to cook something) and a refreshing cocktail of saline, Valium, and Zofran, I was sent on my merry way. It must have done something to improve the situation, because today I’ve miraculously achieved a semi-vertical position, whereas before I’d attempt it and could only manage dizzying myself right into dehydration, which, may I say, is no fun. Also, and it must be said… Pro tip: if you haven’t stumbled your way to the bathroom and made a little tinkle in over eight hours, you’re probably in bad shape. Pro tip part deux: if you did finally manage to stumble your way to the bathroom to make a little tinkle and it had been a whopping 12 hours since the previous visit and you had had a bag of saline in the interim, you were really freaking dehydrated and maybe you need to date Gatorade exclusively for the rest of the weekend. Yellow Gatorade really is the way to go. Red is disturbing if, heaven forbid, it makes a U-Turn and revisits you and Blue…if you’re drinking something blue what the hell. The only reason anyone should be drinking something blue is because they live on Tatooine and are whining about power converters. 

So now I’m on diet of Dramamine and ibuprofen and simple foods like broth and rice; Zofran if I need it and lordy lordy I pray I do not. I was planning on starting the Whole30 after my birthday, I just didn’t expect to start with a big ole’ BANG like this. On the bright side, nothing but broth really sounds good anyway and I’m pretty sure I’ve lost a few pounds since Wednesday night. Um. Yay?

Since I’ve missed my birthday (and I say it’s considered missed if you’re sick enough to sleep through 90% of it, as I did) I have a choice to make. I can just keep saying I’m 42, which is entertaining to me and me only, or I can celebrate my life the next 363 (I’m writing off today as I still can’t move my head without the world going a little loosey-goosey around the edges). Guess I’m going with the latter, because if I go with the former it’ll do nothing but throw the universe outta whack and I’m not up for that level of responsibility. Right now everything is already pretty screwed up, I don’t need to add to it.

So Happy #$^%#&$ Birthday to me. 2016 you’ve continued on your suck streak, do appreciate <sarcasm font>. Time for some broth and water and maybe even some buttered toast, if I’m feeling reckless. 

Cheers to 43, may it only go up from here.


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