As long as the doctor doesn't say...

I spent the last half of the workweek and the weekend trying to convince myself that I was going to be o.k. with going to a conference (in a city I don't like) for work for the first half of this week. My reasons for not wanting to go? Most people I know were excited for me. Not me. Three things I really don't like combined into one trip: 1. Conferences mean lots of people. As the few people who read my blog know, I hate crowds of people. Nothing, almost nothing, else makes me so uncomfortable as fast as crowds. And I don't mean chicken pox in your mouth uncomfortable. Worse. Put me a crowd and I will either find the fastest way out or start to plan an immediate move to the lonely reaches of Alaska or the Northern Territories. I think with fondness of Antarctica. 2. It's in a particular city that I don't like. 3. Strangers. You might think that should go along with the crowd thing, but it doesn't. I have a hard time facing even one person I don't know. Especially in a place that I'm not comfortable in.

But for work, you have to do many things you don't want to. (Which is a thing I'm still trying to convince myself of.) So my boss and I looked up some good restaurants we would eat at, I made myself a new journal, came up with a bunch of things to bring that could be my security blanket (a sort of 'will travel' comfort zone), found things to turn my new journal into an art project, and marked a lot of my favorite comfort bringing and courage giving scriptures. By Saturday night I had almost convinced myself to stop looking forward with dread to this Monday.

Sunday morning I woke up aching on every inch of my skin. I will admit that earlier in the week I had kind of hoped that my minor runny nose would turn into something bad enough for me not to go, but I wasn't truly serious. Who wants an illness that's bad enough to keep you from going to a conference that's already been paid for? Back to Sunday morning. The dude had been sick since Friday, so I of course blamed him for getting me sick. Both of us had fevers and a cough That's when I realized that my chest was on fire. No not literally, but it sure felt like someone had lit a forge in my lungs. When even getting dressed hurt enough to cause me to whimper in pain I finally gave in to the dude's suggestion that we may have to miss church.

I texted my boss telling her I was sick so we could prepare for the possibility of me not going to the conference. I felt worse and worse as the day passed. As I was talking to my mom and told her how I was feeling she said, "It sounds like you have pneumonia." I laughed in spite of the coughing. "Mom, I've just felt like this for a day. I don't have pneumonia! I just have some dumb cold. I'll feel better in the morning." Not giving up she continued, "You should go see a doctor."
Me scoffing again, "Mom, I'm not going to the doctor. They'll probably tell me that nothing is wrong but a cold."

When the forge in my lungs turned into a raging forest fire that night, the dude told me that if I felt like that the next morning I needed to go to the doctor. As I could barely breathe I just nodded in defeat.

The next morning the forest fire had gone back down to forge size, but I still called the doctor to make an appointment. A call to my boss, who by the way is the best boss in the world (and no, I don't think she reads this blog), helped me decide that I wasn't going to the conference, at least not that morning. She did ask me to get a doctor's note to show the airline to see if we could get our money back. I asked her if she wanted a teacher's note too, but she declined. He, he. I pray I'll have a sense of humor until I die.

So hobbling my fever and fire filled body to the doctor's office I sat there feeling dumb. As long as he didn't say "You're just fine. Everything is normal" I would be happy. Why don't I want to be fine? Because I hate going to the doctor, and I refuse to go unless everything is most definitely NOT fine! The dude came with me, mostly because me and a fever don't make a good driving team. I also tend to forget my symptoms as soon as I walk into the doctor's office.

We laid it out symptom by symptom for the doctor. He listened to my lungs, even made me do the "EEE" thing to further listen to the good old air sacks. Then he said it. (Now those of you who saw the warning signs when I was scoffing at my mom's suggestion will enjoy the justice of this next part.) "Pneumonia, the beginning stages." Evidently the air didn't just flow through the lower parts of my lungs like it's supposed to and the "EEE" sounded more like a Moose call. (Hey, what can I say? Even my pneumonia has a sense of humor.)

So now I have hot pink horse pills and I'm missing work and the conference. Oh, and watching a lot of movies twice because I don't want to get up and put a new one in the DVD player. The silver lining is that I was able to turn my journal into an art project anyway. I've been enjoying it.

Luckily the dude started feeling a lot better today. When we are both sick.... Well, that's just not any fun. For anyone.

The good news is we may have 12 nieces and nephews 9 months from now. That one you'll have to call and ask me about. I'll try and tell you all about it. Between coughs.