Lauren the Grouch

I am very grumpy.  You might as well cover me with green fur, stand me in a trash can, and set me by a door stoop in

Brooklyn

.  Pint-sized woke up on the wrong side of the crib too early this morning and was a handful all morning.  This would be okay if we could just farm and fiddle but it is voting day.  I do not miss voting day.  Anthony and I hit the thankfully short-lined polls, but he did not want to be held and proceeded to struggle in my arms while at the same time producing a very smelly and noticeable-to-all-in-attendance bowel movement.  Next, he began screaming like an alpaca and squirming enough to spread his stench throughout the entire banquet room.  People stared at me the stare familiar to all parents (or grandparents) of misbehaving children.  He wriggled out of my arms as I was signing the book and receiving my ballot and ran down the hall towards the entrance.  The very kind lady behind me ran after him but upon handoff, described him as “funky.”  Embarrassed, I thanked her and dragged the yes-he-is-terrible-two to a table.  Somehow I voted; it’s a bit of a blur but since I had the forethought to fill out my sample ballot in preparation for an event such as this, I know I made the right choices.

Next, I was off to have blood drawn.  Of course, the child fell asleep, so I had to awaken him, only to enter a waiting room chock a block full of people and one harried phlebotomist to stick them all.  She barely looked at me, just enough to exasperatingly tell me that there was at least an hour wait.  Aaargh.   I will not subject myself to an hour in a cramped room full of strangers while trying to entertain a having-a-very-off-day little boy.  We left; I have to go back, very soon.

See, my dread disease is in full swing right now and manifesting itself a little differently than usual.  (Stop reading if you’re squeamish.)  I look like a leper with sores covering my arms, back, and chest, and hiding behind my ears.  (I will spare you from having to see a photo of this loveliness; it’s hard enough for me to look at.)  They are also under my tongue and beginning to arise from the insides of my cheeks.  My left lower lip is swollen and sticking out, making me look a bit like James Cagney in those old gangster movies.  In short, I am quite the site and very uncomfortable.  Tomorrow, I head to the doctor, hopefully with a better behaved young man, so he can spin the wheel of pharmaceuticals and figure out what to try this time. 

So, dear friends, I hope you will excuse the fact that I grossed you out and vented my dark mood on you all.  You have to admit I have a good excuse, though nothing that massive doses of prednisone, a hefty downing of pain meds, and a few farm animals can’t cure. 

Comments

[Teresa Metts]

I am so sorry to hear you are under the weather. I just got home from spending a week with my granddaughter who is 3 1/2 and I think I need another vacation to recover.

I will keep a good thought for you!