Nov. 25, 2006 ~ Giving thanks
Now that I am apparently older, I have gone from "Girl with the cast iron stomach" to "She who cannot eat much." "Much" meaning a normal amount of not-normal foods. Blech.
The original plan was to pick up a restaurant meal on Wednesday evening, then eat it for our Thursday meal. But that did not seem very Thanksgiving-ey, and College Boy was visiting, so we made an emergency trip to Wal-Mart (What was I THINKING?) on Wednesday morning before work, and accidentally bought a large spiral-sliced ham. For three people. And bought stuff to make deviled eggs, and that french bread we like, and a lemon meringue pie, etc. And on Thanksgiving I had a normal amount of these things, as in one slice of ham, one slice of bread, green beans without butter, a few crackers with dip, small handful of mixed nuts, etc. Did not get painfully full, and did not have seconds. Or supper that night. Because by then I felt ill. Very. It wasn't how much I ate, it was most likely the fat content. OLDER ME cannot seem to digest such things well.
I remember my dad used to get violently ill after eating a heavy meal, though I thought it was his gallbladder or possibly his drinking.
Anyway, the past couple of days haven't been so much fun, and though I am counting my blessings, I'll be especially thankful when this is over.
Last night I slept maybe two hours, and woke up in pain. By morning I was in tears, doubled over, unable to straighten up. A hot shower helped relax spasming abdominal muscles, and then things got really ugly.
Husband has decided that we need a new truck. Our current one has a water leak. This is a sign that it is wearing out and can't last forever. sigh. Is there anything more painful than shopping for a new car? Seriously? Well, yes, there is! Shopping for a new car while sick. The truck salesman is in our Sunday School class, of course, because this is a small town and those are the rules. Everybody knows everybody. So it wasn't as bad as it could have been.
Still.
Husband found a truck he was drooling over. For me, no drool. Having a fair number of owies and various places that always hurt, the most important thing in a vehicle is comfort. Not Lexus-type fancy pants comfort, but basic, bare-bones truck comfort. We like work trucks, without carpet, and I prefer not having electric windows or door locks. Less to mess up. The first thing I check out is the height of the vehicle (knees make it a challenge to get in and out if the vehicle is too high or too low). The second important thing is the seat. It can't hurt my back or my neck, and most vehicles are cut from the roster of possible choices right there. A seat may be perfectly fine for 99 percent of the population, but if it causes me pain, it is foolish for me to even consider buying that vehicle.
Husband REALLY likes one particular truck. Said truck's seat hurt my neck immediately and has no lumbar control. So I felt like such a mean, selfish wife when admitting that I did not share his enthusiasm. He looked deflated and sad. His birthday is tomorrow, and I would love to have said, "Sure, Honey! Let's buy it! Let's sign the papers right now!" Instead I said, "We need to keep looking. And I'm about to pass out."
We went home and I fixed sandwiches, my first actual food in quite some time, and then I had to lie down. Just to rest. A little later I heard a truck pull up, and wondered who was driving, my mom or Husband. Then it dawned on me that it had to be Husband, because to my knowledge, my mom has never driven a truck. I went back to sleep, and when I awoke it was dark. Had I been dreaming? Must have been. My mom died in 1992, and I did not seem to remember that earlier. Funny, the tricks one's mind can play.
To review, today has consisted of waking up sick, shopping for a truck, eating a sandwich, and sleeping. Oh, and fixing more sandwiches tonight, making blueberry cheesecake cookie bars for Husband's birthday tomorrow, and washing dishes. Except for making the cookies, it feels like a waste of a perfectly good Saturday!
But that happens.
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