megfowler.com

I’ve heard the same phrase three times in the last four years.

Once, I almost lost a leg.

The second time, I learned I had the hormones of a sixty-eight year-old grandma.

This time? Eh. Maybe I’ll cough up a lung, like Ferris.

It turns out that the “Little Sinus Infection That Could” has decided to conquer my throat and my chest. Which means that I’ll be shelling out more than $90 today for a couple weeks worth of really awesome antibiotics. Because the ones I had?

Not awesome enough.

Unfortunately, the last time I was on these, my stomach lining disappeared and took about a month to come back. A month in which I threw up most of the time and barely ate. So I guess the awesome is relative.

For now, however, my ears are totally plugged, my nose is like water torture, and my chest sounds like I inhaled a maraqueros.

I think I need to meet a sugar daddy who likes to lavish exclusively with flowers, manicures, expensive pharmaceutical options and the sugar-free fudgesicles.

So I’m ON IT.

Why, hello!

How are you?

I’d shake your hand, but it would appear that mine is crawling with EVIL, BODY-SNATCHING GERMS.

Or something.

For those of you that haven’t been with me from the beginning, or those of you who just don’t remember these things (because why would you?), here is the breakdown of events:

1. A wall of congestion and pain descends on my face last Wednesday.

2. A fever dawdles in on Thursday, along with fatigue and symptoms that appear to be some combination of the Plague and Typhoid.

3. Friday, I go to the doctor, and he gives me antibiotics for a sinus infection. I am very proud of myself for going to the doctor.

4. Saturday and Sunday are spent in a haze of tiredness, Advil Cold and Sinus Plus, and DVDs.

5. Monday arrives, and things seem to be getting worse. The congestion has left me with a perma-migraine and a swollen face, and the fever is trucking along nicely.

5. Tuesday arrives, and by mid-day, I’m wondering why I’ve been sapped of all will to live. Now I’m coughing, my face is swollen and red, and I’ve resorted to only breathing half as much because I sound like a Dyson every time I take air in. I get home, I lie down on the couch. I am pathetic beyond all reason. We call Catherine’s mom (she’s the best nurse in the world) because neither of us is getting better (she from the flu, me from… this.) She says that Catherine has to go to the doctor, and I need to go back, because I need different drugs. I affirm this. By now, I’ve tried nasal irrigation (TMI, I know), steaming, antihistamines, decongestants, antibiotics, weird teas, hot and cold packs, herbs, vitamins, sinus massage… you name it! Friends suggest new remedies and I’m like YEAH DID IT. DIDN’T WORK. WHATCHA GOT NOW, HOTSHOT?

6. Wednesday morning dawns, and my eyes are puffy and itchy, the congestion has not abated, and now I have a persistent, burning cough. Fever clocks in steady at 101 F. It all still points to a sinus infection, just one that is TAKING OVER MY SOUL.

I’m feeling a tad pissy about the whole thing. But I’m walking as positively as I can through it, despite the fact that I am practically wearing the same outfit I wore yesterday; that my hair keeps crawling into my eyes because I got tired while I was blowdrying; that my nose is a lovely strawberry shade of red; and that I’m about ready to dig out my itchy eyes with a spoon.

While I’ve been dealing with my autoimmune and hormone issues for almost a year at this point (with varying degrees of success and frustration), I’ve otherwise been pretty damn healthy up until now. The people that chide me for my flip-flop wearing, under-dressed ways are always getting colds and sore throats and crazyass flu bugs.

They wander about in their coats and scarves, moaning at their symptoms.

But me?

IRON MEG.

Until now. Which alternately makes me feel like sleeping or crying because dude… when I get sick? I GET SICK.

And every time someone says, “Well, hope you get better!” or “Feel better soon!” or “Doing better today?” I want to scream because it just reminds me that I’m falling apart more and more by degrees. But that’s what people say, because what else can they say?

“Merciful heavens, have you considered that it could be cancer?”

“You look HORRIBLE.”

No.

But anyway.

ENOUGH.

CURE, PLEASE.

I don’t know if it has anything to do with the fact that some of my earliest memories of my dad put a guitar in his hands… Spanish-sounding chord runs, Puff the Magic Dragon, old hymns, Simon and Garfunkel.

I don’t know if it has anything to do with the fact that I spent every summer at camp, where beat-up Takamines and Yamahas and Martins rested awkwardly in the arms of skinny kids playing “More Than Words” and U2 songs by ear.

I don’t know if it has anything to do with my friend Rene, who used to play James Taylor songs for me in stairwells in college, when I was very sad or very happy.

I don’t know if it has anything to do with the fact that the first person I ever fell in love with… really, really fell… was a better musician than he was anything else.

It just is. I love guitar-playing guys.

Not that every boy with a pack of strings in his back pocket is worth listening to.

Some bring tunelessness or affectation or imitation or arrogance or obviousness. And no one wants that, not even a die-hard like me.

But.

I’ve always just had this sense that I’ll get my own someday.

So, in celebration:

One of my favourite songs, ever. And yes, my dad can play it.

So very lovely.

A lullaby I sing to babies all the time.

Just joyful.

Yeah.

Spring forward or fall back? (DST)

Paper bills or online bills?

Love or money (if you could have more of one right now)?

Give up meat or give up bread?

ABBA or WHAM?

Travel Africa or South America?

Hummus or salsa?

Morning swim or morning walk?

Rememberer of occasions or forgetter of birthdays?

Palm tree or pine tree?

Candles or incense?

Fake fur or real fur?

Old classics or the latest bestseller?

Running shoes or flip flops?

Sing or dance?

Darts or shuffleboard?

George Clooney or Brad Pitt?

Luxury cruise or all-inclusive?

Grocery list or vague idea of what you want to buy?

(via my new camera phone)

Blog post in thirty words or less:

Raining MADLY.

Fever, antibiotics, sinuses of death.

So thankful for fireplace and blankets.

Lots of grapefruit juice. Advil Cold and Sinus.

DVDs and takeout.

Will live to see another day.

Before I begin, let me say that I appreciate you.

You always sit so faithfully up there on top of my shoulders, keeping my brain in place, holding up my sunglasses, growing hair…. all the important things.

I know I haven’t made your journey easy, what with the broken noses and concussions and odd dental ailments and bad haircuts I’ve sustained.

I’ve run you into more cupboard corners and car doors and tree branches and windsurf booms and snowballs than any reasonable appendage should have been forced to endure.

Not to mention that my current run of health has left you migraine-addled and slightly bewildered, like the victim of a particularly bad Zipper ride.

Yet you still stick by me like a champ, come what may.

But I’d like to have a short chat with you about Sinuses.

I know that they’ve always been the black sheep of the Head Family, getting puffy, developing allergies on a whim, begging for pricey drugs. They drip when they’re supposed to be dry, they make odd clicking noises when the weather changes, and we won’t even get into the one time a doctor had to stick a camera up there to see why the hell they were trying to take over the universe.

I know they do their own thing.

I know they’re troubled.

But it’s March, Head, and Sinuses seem to be mistaking it for May. Allergies? Already? I don’t even see any pollen floating about, yet they’re already whining and whimpering and post-nasaling and swelling up to make me look like Ernest Borgnine.

Can’t you have a chat with them?

Can you show them how peaceful Ears are being? How Eyes are wearing pretty mascara and would prefer not to water? How cheerful and rosy Cheeks are?

No?

Fine. Allergies. Okay. I can just start with the Reactine THREE MONTHS EARLY. That’s cool. I LOVE SPENDING MONEY ON TINY WHITE OBJECTS THAT WORK 50% OF THE TIME.

I draw the line at an infection, though. At first I thought it was just the early coming of Spring, but the weird face pain? The fever? The sore throat?

Dammit, Head. It’s NOT OKAY.

You don’t see Chin getting sick, do you? You don’t see Lips chapping up like cowboys, hmmm? You don’t see Eyebrows getting fallen arches!

Why do Sinuses need to be so… so… bitchy?

Why can’t you get control of your people?

I know you’ve worked long and hard to stay intact all these years, but if you can’t start wrangling your staff, I’ll be forced to punish you somehow.

And nobody wants to see me with dreadlocks.

You’ve been warned.

Love,

Meg

UPDATE: I went to the doctor (!) because the pain was just getting to be a bit much, and lo and behold? Confirmed sinus infection. Antibiotics, decongestants, etc.

He said he’d give me something for the pain, but the walk-in clinic doesn’t prescribe anything that could be considered sedative or narcotic because of their location. No problem. I’ll just ask the guy on the corner of Hastings and Main what he’s got.

Just kidding, Mom.

Inferno, INDEED.

Whoa, I’m tired.

Like, eyes-falling-shut-caffeine-mainlining-holy-cow-someone-smack-me-in-the-head tired.

I’m still functioning perfectly well and getting stuff done, but I really have nothing beyond the energy it takes for “official” tasks. When I’m done working or, say, walking upright, I just end up staring into space and dabbing daintily at the drool at the corner of my mouth.

I’ve actually been fried for a couple of days, which is either an indicator that I’m getting sick… or that the hormones continue to be a lame presence in my life.

Catherine already has strep, though. So I think I’ll just let HER be the sick one, and I’ll continue being the Endocrinology Rubik’s Cube.

So.

I need you people to, uh, blog for me, if we’re all going to get through this. Well, not BLOG for me, per se, but tell me how you are and what you’re up to so I can escape my own sorry migraine-infested head and glory in the excitement and wonder of your lives. I mean, unless they’re like this.

Then I’ll just look at you awkwardly.

Ready? Everyone? EVEN THE LURKERS?!

GO!

1. Where are you currently located? (home, work, coffee shop, a mountain peak, a safe house in Brazil…)
2. What are you currently wearing? If you could be wearing anything, what would it be?
3. What was the last thing you ate? What do you WISH was the last thing you ate?
4. If you were starring in a Hollywood production of your own life today, what would the soundtrack be? Who should direct? Who should your co-stars be?
5. What was the last thing you laughed at?
6. What do you wish you were doing right this moment?
7. How would you describe your mood?
8. Can I get you a beverage?
9. Some ice cream?
10. A hug?

Today I walked by a bedraggled-looking man — in pink pants, with two purebred pitbulls and a shopping cart — looking up into the window of a health club near my office with binoculars.

Another man walking by chuckled and said, “See anything good?”

The binocular man replied, “I’m blind, actually.”

I love Vancouver.

It could be said that I stand out in public because I am a vibrant and graceful soul.

It would be wrong, but it could be said.

Like, if I paid you. Or threatened you. Or something.

The more accurate thing to say, however, would be that I stand out in public because I am a complete and utter gong show.

If something bizarre is going to happen to someone, it will happen to me. If someone is going to do something bizarre, it will likely be me.

I can’t seem to help it.

But it’s actually more fun and beneficial than you might think! I mean, when people aren’t laughing at me, they do laugh with me. And I get to know lots of useful stuff about tending to minor injuries… and stain removal.

What part of that sounds bad? That’s right — none of it.

So, as a sort of public service — just in case you were looking to emulate my creative, unpredictable lifestyle — I thought I’d give you a few tips on stumbling through the crowd:

1. Never dress appropriately for the weather. This strategy is obviously really easy to do, and one of the most low-maintenance attention-getters available — perfect for beginners! If you see that it’s raining, make sure you wear things that aren’t waterproof (extra points if you don a white shirt.)

If it’s cold out, avoid putting on proper shoes or a jacket. If dramatic exposure to the elements is imminent, you’re bound to get noticed! I can recall once when I figured the weather was fairly temperate, so I didn’t throw on any outer gear beyond my sweater and jeans and flip flops. I wasn’t even meaning to attract attention…

…but when a freak snowstorm hit, my toes bore the brunt. And oh, the stares! It worked like a charm.

And I totally don’t think my toe is going to be black forever.

2. Forget that not everyone can hear the same music you do. I’m not talking about the music that plays in your head, though if indeed music does play in your head, you’re bound to find your own way of making a spectacle.

But if you want people to really glare at you, it’s a good idea to sing along with whatever comes on your iPod, no matter where you are. Like, say, bank lineups… and Starbucks lineups… and buses. After all, if people stare at you, they probably just think you have a pretty voice, right?

3. Multitask ineffectively. Now, you’re probably saying, “Hey, Meg. I thought multitaskers were the kind of people who are always on the ball. They get stuff done! How could they make a spectacle of themselves?”

Ah, grasshopper. You have much to learn. The secret to multitasking ineffectively is combining tasks that don’t go together. Like eating crepes and typing drafts. Or talking on the phone while brushing your teeth. Or drinking coffee and running. Or putting on your pants while making a smoothie.

Why, just these four odd combinations could result in blueberries in your keyboard, poking yourself in the eye, dyeing your shirt brown, and forgetting to put the lid on your blender! I mean… they could. If you, uh… did them right.

Yeah. And not… uh… all in one day or anything.

4. Perform manual labour while you are engrossed in conversation. Nothing can derail an activity faster than getting involved in an engaging conversation at the same time. It’s kind of like ineffective multitasking… just much, much more perilous.

Today, I tripped into the street while giggling on my cell phone, scattered a multi-page draft all over the floor while chatting at the photocopier, dropped my banana bread on the floor while chatting about my latte preferences with the barista, and walked into a flower stand while saying hello to someone I knew on the street.

Being social really pays off, huh?

5. Get flustered and create a domino effect. Let’s say you head into a bathroom stall, undo your pants, and sit down. But say when you sit down that the toilet seat appears to be unanchored to the toilet itself. You feel yourself starting to fall to the side in your pantsless state.

Do you a) calmly stand, so as not to follow the seat trajectory to the floor; b) attempt to right the direction of the seat by shifting quickly in the other direction; or c) squeal, kick one leg out to save yourself and fling your flip flop under the door at the new girl washing her hands at the sink, smack your head against the side wall, and flush the toilet by accident when you stand up, spraying your pants and you all at once?

Gosh, I know what I’d choose.

6. Tell people all about it on your blog. Because, you know… why not?