Last night I almost broke. I am sick. SICK.
At one in the morning I woke with a fierce sore throat and high fever. My whole body was shaking and aching. In the peak of it, when Poppy woke up to eat, and we were both crying and uncomfortable… I realized something. I chose this. Even if someone were here to help me, I would still choose to do this alone. I am the only one I can count on 100% of the time, and I like it that way. So I pulled her against my fiery chest, fed her through the chills and pounding headache, and talked myself down from the (metaphorical) ledge.
With the help of a phone call to Mom, of course. I sometimes just need to say “this is hard. This is unfair. But I can do this.”
So, today I have eaten twelve cloves of garlic, hydrated beyond my capacity, and still managed to pull off a somewhat successful yard sale. Friends stopped by. I sold some random items. Everyone put on a mustache. It was a good (sick) day.
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