Back to The Land of The Living

This past weekend, after my mom’s surprise arrival for Ellie’s birthday, we had…

The Party:

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We even had an appearance by a fairy godmother (Ellie’s Gee Ma who rented a queen dress at a costume store, and magically appeared with crown on head and magic wand in hand. The girls LOVED it!)

Five little princes attended, including Ellie.  (And two princes…couldn’t leave her brothers out of the fun!)  Sugar cube “Ice Castles” were made. Gifts were opened. Cake was devoured.  Goody bags were distributed.

Fun was had by all.

That very same night, as an early birthday present for him (Andrew’s and Ellie’s birthdays are five days apart) I took Andrew out to the Bozeman Annual Sweet Tooth Ball–a gala fund raiser event for Bridger Clinic, a women’s health center here in town. We got dressed up. We bid on silent auction items (none of which we won) and attempted a few swing dance steps amidst a far more talented crowd. We drank wine and chatted with fellow party-goers.

But the sore throat and headache that had been plaguing me all day started to worsen.

And then the next morning happened: I awoke with a 102 degree fever, body aches like I’d been hit by a Mack truck, and a throat that felt on fire (or impaled by a hundred invisible sewing needles).

By eleven o’clock Sunday morning, I was sitting in the urgent care center where I was ultimately diagnosed with Strep Throat.

Two days of body-shaking fever & chills, a headache that threatened to explode beyond the confines of my skull, and 6,000 mg of Amoxacillin later, I am a new woman!

By the way…this post wouldn’t be complete without a proverbial shout out to the world about how amazingly wonderful my husband is.  Sunday was his birthday.  And, instead of fixing him a nice dinner and corralling the troupes for a day of family fun in honor of Daddy’s special day, I laid on the couch/in bed while Andrew performed the post-birthday party damage control, etc…all the while bringing me juice and water to drink and frequently checking in on me, wondering what else he could do to help me feel better.

And did I mention, he didn’t complain even a teensy-weensy little bit about the fact that it was his birthday and nothing special was being done for him?  (Ok, the package of Pop Tarts I placed on the “You Are Special Today” plate, before crawling back into bed doesn’t count.)

Man, it sucks to be sick.  And boy, am I thankful to be healthy!

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