I've always tended to dismiss the lawmaker Murphy as a pessimist, but he may have had a point, with his "if anything can go wrong, it will" idea. Certainly there's a reason Murphy's law has endured for so many years. I've had tough weeks before, but last week was another definition of difficult. Somewhere up in Heaven, God is pointing and laughing at me. All the choirs of Heaven are chuckling. No, they are chortling. At me. Little, insignificant, me.
It's my turn to be the brunt of jokes from the Heavenly Host.
Wednesday I woke up feeling like a truck had run over me. I just felt exhausted and in a little pain. I called my surgeon and he decided that I should come in the next day to see him. I managed to made it through the day(mostly meetings) and was glad to sit down in my comfy chair at home. Larry asked me how I was feeling. I felt like I had a fever, which I attributed to random hormones. I did actually have a fever, though, which freaked us out a bit. My fever went away that evening, however, before I had even brushed my teeth. I felt much better the next day.
Thursday, my car door handle broke, right as Zane and I were leaving to begin our day. I had to open the passenger door, lean over the console and open the driver's side door that way. No problem, I said. As long as the car is drivable, I'm good until the Christmas break, when I have time to take my car in to be fixed. It was raining that morning. No problem, I said. I'll just use one of the 4,000 umbrellas that we own. Surely one of those 4,000 umbrellas is in this car.
No. Not a single one of those umbrellas was in my car. Not only did I have to crawl over the console to open the driver's side door, I had to do so in the rain. No problem, I said. I would be leaving early for an appointment with my surgeon, and maybe bedraggled would become a fashion trend at some point.
Larry came home coughing on Thursday. He did not have a fever, so we attributed his attempts to cough up a lung as allergy related. He met me at the doctor's office, occasionally coughing into the crook of his elbow. He went with me to see my surgeon, where I was told that I have a postoperative infection(very common with drains, I'm told). We got some antibiotics and went home.
Instead of feeling better the next day, Larry felt worse. Zane and I left him passed out on the couch as we started our day. I met him briefly in the doctor's parking lot, where I handed him one of those surgical masks to wear for his appointment.
Where he found out that he had the FLU.
I am the only person I know who is allergic to the flu shot, so I haven't had one in years, but Larry had been consistent in getting his vaccination. Until this year. The next morning, Zane complained that he did not feel well and it was exactly no surprise to me that he had a fever. Because of course he would. After a couple of hours at the urgent care clinic, I was told that my boy had the flu as well. He then proceeded to spend the day alternating between drinking, barfing, and sleeping.
It would be easy to get angry and curse and just be downright cranky about the whole thing. Certainly nobody would say a word if I wallowed in the self-pity right now. After all, it seemed as though God was just throwing the entire book of "What Could Possibly Go Wrong?" at me. Anything that could go topsy-turvy has done so. My toilet even clogged this weekend!
When these sorts of things have happened in the past, they were catastrophic in my head. Huge, insurmountable obstacles. It's different this time. With a few exceptions, however, I'm just shaking my head and laughing. The worst has already happened, and my attitude has adjusted accordingly. This too, shall pass.
I may go buy a lottery ticket, however. I'm due for some good luck, right?