A visit from the young Russian doc yesterday evening revealed the cause of my fever to be a simple ear infection and both Caleb and Lochlan practically hit the floor in relief.
I wasn't worried. I'm a goddamned tank. I'll be looking after everyone until the bitter end. It's what I do. I've graduated to delivering hot lunches to everyone's desks each day just after noonish and tea after two. I've taken over several chores and I've done great, ear infection and fever or not.
The doc declined to want to treat this, telling me to take paracetamol and to take it easy. He stares at Caleb the entire time he says this, as if it's Caleb's fault we don't have a team of militarized housekeepers to do things so that I'm not doing them, as I should be treasured.
This is the same man who told me I should invest in a lot of plastic surgery to be perfect and offers it every. single. visit.
God, I hate them all.
Lochlan's done with the doctor and walks out. We can deal with an ear infection. I will slow down. I need to stop mothering perfectly-capable boys and I need to take care of myself a little better.
(Okay a lot but I have a hard time with that.)
I'm glad it's not anything worse. And I know I have to take care now not to get rundown but we're not testing for anything because I'm okay, and because others need it more. And I'm not listening to any of the told-you-sos that asked me to pack up my world and move to Rhode Island, Montauk or Portugal, respectively because well, let's not talk about US healthcare or what I know about Portugese health care but I want to be home and we should be home and so we are home, and home we'll stay.
Besides, Duncan is falling off the wagon and they're not seeing it. And travelling while that's happening sucks worse than anything. I did it with Ben once and it made things ten times worse.
I wasn't worried. I'm a goddamned tank. I'll be looking after everyone until the bitter end. It's what I do. I've graduated to delivering hot lunches to everyone's desks each day just after noonish and tea after two. I've taken over several chores and I've done great, ear infection and fever or not.
The doc declined to want to treat this, telling me to take paracetamol and to take it easy. He stares at Caleb the entire time he says this, as if it's Caleb's fault we don't have a team of militarized housekeepers to do things so that I'm not doing them, as I should be treasured.
This is the same man who told me I should invest in a lot of plastic surgery to be perfect and offers it every. single. visit.
God, I hate them all.
Lochlan's done with the doctor and walks out. We can deal with an ear infection. I will slow down. I need to stop mothering perfectly-capable boys and I need to take care of myself a little better.
(Okay a lot but I have a hard time with that.)
I'm glad it's not anything worse. And I know I have to take care now not to get rundown but we're not testing for anything because I'm okay, and because others need it more. And I'm not listening to any of the told-you-sos that asked me to pack up my world and move to Rhode Island, Montauk or Portugal, respectively because well, let's not talk about US healthcare or what I know about Portugese health care but I want to be home and we should be home and so we are home, and home we'll stay.
Besides, Duncan is falling off the wagon and they're not seeing it. And travelling while that's happening sucks worse than anything. I did it with Ben once and it made things ten times worse.