When I was in sixth grade, I got strep throat. It was horrible, but I got to stay home from school for a week (because I had a fever the whole time and when you had a fever, you had to stay home) and read “Flowers In The Attic”. Then I had another two weeks off for Christmas break.

It seems that 22 years later, history is repeating itself. No, I haven’t gotten to stay home for a week (in fact my throat only started hurting on Sunday), but I do have strep, and now I also have vacation. So yay!

Today: Our staff went to a local diner for breakfast (it was delicious. And my two eggs, hashbrowns, sausage, toast, and tea cost less than $5. Of course my throat acted as a pretty effective appetite suppressant, but the food was good and when I’m feeling better I’ll drag Rob there). There are 40 teachers on staff, plus custodians, secretaries, administration, EA’s… so it was pretty crowded. Afterwards we went back to school for presentations to anyone who was retiring or leaving to go to another school or whatever. And, since I (with plenty of Rob’s help) had finished cleaning up my classroom yesterday, I had nothing left to do so I went and helped the Sewing teacher cut fabric for the next two hours.

There is a baby shower this afternoon for a staff member, but I thought it would be a better idea to go to the walk-in clinic and get myself checked out. Which I did. And so now I have my freedom, but I also have little horrible strep animals living in my body, strepping it up. But I get to take penicillin for it. Strep while you can, streps, because I am going to keeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeel you!

I have never had tonsillitis, so I don’t know what that’s like, but oh holy lord does my throat hurt right now. Enough so that I was actually crying a bit this morning. Go ahead, call me a wuss (no, not really). Anyway, today and tomorrow are my last days of work for the year and I am super excited about that. Even though this is the forecast here for the rest of the week (and has been pretty much the weather for the past week, as well):

Hopefully the rain holds off for one of those days, because we want to set up our tent in the backyard and give it a good spray with some sealant before heading off next weekend for our little trip. Of course that means that first we have to actually purchase a tent. Technically we already own a tent but we left it at Rob’s parents’ last summer on our exodus from NL, and it was stored in their shed all winter, where mice decided that nylon was a tasty snack. Anyway. I have been teasing Rob by sending him links to $400, 10-person tents with pet dens and attached foyers, which horrifies him because when he camps, he’s like “We’re camping! Sleep on rocks! pull a tarp over our heads! That’s ALL!”. If he could he would be like that guy who went out and lived with the bears. I just have to keep reminding him that the bears, they killed that guy (how … I don’t know the word… is it that he had digital camcorders running in his backpack at the time of his death – which means there’s probably audio of the bears eating him. But no one has ever listened to the audio). So, although we won’t be getting the super-deluxe ten-room tent of doom, we *will* be getting something other than a tarp strung up between two trees. And I’m bringing the dang air mattress.

Okay yeah, that’s the end of that for this morning. I a going to pick up some Chloraseptic on the way in to work, and whine like a big baby all day.

NOTHING!

I have been laying around and feeling yucky since I wrote my last post. My throat is horrible, I have a fever, and let’s just say that the running back and forth to the bathroom has me seriously considering adult diapers. Either that or setting up a little bed in the bathtub.

As I lay here, languishing, I’ve been watching Season 1 of Maude. I remember seeing it in reruns when I was a kid, but I didn’t really remember any of the episodes. My favourite part of the whole experience is that Rob has decided that the show would be better if, instead of Bea Arthur, the show starred the Prince of Wallachia.

Lady Godiva was a freedom rider
She didnt’ care if the whole world looked.
Joan of Arc with the Lord to guide her
She was a sister who really cooked.

Isadora was the first bra burner
And you’re glad she showed up. (Oh yeah)
And when the country was falling apart
Betsy Ross got it all sewed up.

And then there’s Vlad.
(And then there’s Vlad).
And then there’s Vlad.
(And then there’s Vlad).
And then there’s Vlad.
(And then there’s Vlad).
And then there’s

That old compromisin’, enterprisin’, anything but tranquilizing,
Right on Vlad~!

This afternoon, my brother, his wife, and my parents needed to go out to Home Depot (which is an hour away) to pick out flooring and glass tile for the bathroom in their new house. And so, they asked me to take care of my two nephews while they were gone.
I always say yes – I love these kids and I always have fun with them. Today was no exception: we played “chess” (basically them moving the pieces all over everywhere and yelling “Check Mate!” every 3 minutes), watched Michael Jackson videos (“I saw a picture of my daddy wearing that jacket when he was little!”), and drew some pictures.
And then little D puked his pants. At which point he just wanted apple juice and naps, which was fine by me, but now that I’m home I’m starting to feel a little weird. And my throat hurts. I think the only cure for this could be ice cream.

When I was out today I saw:

roadkill
potato fields
an eagle
airplanes
a black and blue butterfly
used condoms (or at least, condoms that were out of their protective packaging. I didn’t get close enough to them to know with 100% certainty that they were used)
a dog
a fox

… and this was all within an hour. I’ve been looking at treadmills online lately, because I am a sissypants crymonkey and hate being out there in the rain/wind/heat/humidity/bugs and seriously, in the winter when the snow is up past shoulder height I am not going to want to be outside, but most of them are either $2000+ (yeah right!) or the more affordable ones are really not well-made and have a weight limit that is much too close to my current weight (as in, I gain 2 lbs, I’m not allowed to use the treadmill) for my liking. So, I will keep walking outside for now, and see what happens in the future.

I am having surgery at the end of July. Have I mentioned that? What’s that? Only about 9000 times? Well then I should probably mention it just once more!
I am, at the moment, fairly calm about it all, simply because I don’t allow myself to think about it. When I do try to think about it, all I do is think about what could go wrong.
Aside from the obvious (them finding out that my insides are all kinds of mental), there are plenty of things I’m worrying about.

1)Anesthesia Awareness. Oh my God. I mean, I woke up halfway through my wisdom teeth extraction and I was still frozen, couldn’t FEEL anything, but was freaked out nonetheless. If I actually had this and could FEEL them poking around inside me? YIKES.

2) The after-surgery shoulder pain from the gas escaping. I just basically don’t like pain. Pain is not my friend.

3) Will I have to use Colonix or something, and have a bowel cleanse? Urgh. Not something I look forward to.

4) DYING. They said that since I have asthma, I have more of a chance of dying. DYING IS NOT MY IDEA OF A GOOD TIME.

5) Two weeks of laying around on the sofa? I like laying around enough, but not two weeks worth of enough. Hopefully this doesn’t take 2 weeks for recovery, but that’s what they told me to prepare for.

BUT! Casey had the same surgery as I’m having, just the other day. And while the surgery will likely be different for me than for her, because my doctor is pretty sure I have different stuff going on in there, following her story has given me some reassurances as to my fears. Also it has reassured me that (unless Canadian health care cheaps out, as it is wont to do) I might get Vicodin! And that sounds pretty interesting.

Let’s see, what has been up since last I wrote?

Wednesday evening was Grade 9 Closing. Which is basically like graduation, only they’re not done, they still have three years to go. It was a pretty good ceremony… except. The grade 9 homeroom teachers walk their homerooms in for the processional, then sit with them at the front, and give them their “diplomas” on the stage. About 10 seconds before they were set to go on, the Grade 9 french immersion homeroom teacher (I’m the grade 8 FI hr) came to me with a kleenex held up to her face. “I have a nosebleed – can you walk my class in?” I was like “Uh, okay”. Thinking hey, I don’t have to actually do anything but walk in front of them. her nosebleed will be done with in a few minutes and she’ll take over.

Not so much.

Her nosebleed lasted an hour and a half. I had to go on the stage. The stage, people. I thought I would die. Not to mention the fact that everyone else had had months of rehearsal so they knew what they were doing – I did not. I made like, 50 mistakes. Oh well though. So that finished at 9 pm. Then it was off to their dance, which lasted until midnight. I made it to 10:45, and then I headed home. I’m an old woman. I no longer stay up til midnight.

Yesterday was the last day “with child” at work. They came in during the day to get their report cards, but then they went home (or, a couple hung around, but I just got them to help me move books and wash shelves).

Yesterday was also my birthday. It was pretty great. First of all, a bunch of people said happy birthday to me. I don’t care if I get gifts, I just want the recognition that hey, I was born! Good for me (this is totally attention-seeking behaviour stemming from my 7th birthday party when I invited 10 people and 1 showed up; meanwhile my brother had all 10 of his guests). BUT, I also got gifts. Of course the biggest gift this year is Sprocket, who will get to come home with us fairly soon, but Rob also gave me some girly bath pampering stuff, and these. Yeah, cookware. But I love cookware! And I have been lusting after these for a year. And we needed them. Our current pots and pans are… wrecked isn’t a strong enough word. The pasta pot had lost its handles, so we’d been just using oven mitts to lift it with (dangerous!). One of the smaller saucepans had a hole in it. The frying pan met its sad demise a year or so ago during a tragic grilled cheese incident. So, it was time.

We went out to dinner with friends, and someone bought me a drink. *A* drink. And it’s amazing what not having had any alcohol whatsoever in over 2 years will do to you, tipsy-wise. I was like, “Woooooooooo!” No, I wasn’t yelling, I was just kind of dizzy.

Today is my brother’s birthday. I stopped by there to drop off his gift, and my mom is there babysitting my youngest nephew, who is home sick. He told me that his dad already HAD a present, and that I shouldn’t leave one for him because he only needs one present. I asked if he thought that on his birthday, HE should only get one present. He said “No, I should get three because I am three years old!” (he’ll be turning four… I don’t think he’s grasped that yet) so I answered with “Well, your dad is 32, he should get 32 presents!” His eyes got really big at the thought of that, then he decided to change the subject by showing me how he knows how to play piano. His idea of playing piano, though? Is turning on his mother’s electric piano, putting on the autoplay, and pretending that he is actually JS Bach. He needs the little wig. And to wipe the grape juice stain from around his mouth.

I came home for lunch and now I am headed back to work. I’m dragging Rob with me so that he can help me with the heavy lifting and cleaning shelves. He doesn’t know that yet. He thought he was just coming to lend moral support.

This week has become my World’s Busiest Week Ever. Work is winding down for the year, and that means there’s so much to do, what with packing and cleaning and moving of furniture (Yeah, I have to do it all myself. Yeah, Rob will be coming to work with me at some point to do all the heavy lifting uh, lend moral support. I suppose I should tell him that at some point). Add to that the fact that on Wednesday night is the closing ceremony and dance, which will go until midnight, and which I have to attend. Thursday is my birthday, and we’re going out for some dinner (apparently at the restaurant we’re going to, I get my meal for free on my bday – oooh, fancy!).

Anyway. I woke up at my ever-increasingly-usual time this morning (5:10! And ironically, I haven’t been going to bed til 10 or 11 pm, so I don’t know what’s going on there), looked outside, and thought “UGH RAIN”. I’ve been pretending to be a badass lately with my “Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers Louise from the swift completion of appointed rounds” attitude of just going for a walk even if it’s raining or cold or whatever. And it’s been raining and cold every day this week. But then I realized that my sweatpants and sweatshirt hadn’t gone through the dryer yet. Yeah I could’ve just put on the wet clothes since they’d be soaked within 10 seconds of going outside anyway… but then I saw lightning. And that was it for that.

So instead, I am watching the series finale of Golden Girls. Where Dorothy marries Leslie Nielsen and Stan tries to kidnap her.

I am very lazy. Yes, it’s true.

Yesterday morning was my anesthesiology consult. First I saw a couple of foxes on my morning walk (they sat and stared at me for a bit, and I snapped a couple of pictures with my cellphone, but it was still a little bit dark).
We left home at 7:45 am, and even though we took a different route to avoid construction, we still managed to hit a tiny bit of construction. Luckily my appointment wasn’t until 9:20, so getting to the hospital at 9 was alright. I had to register at the front desk, and they gave me a giant envelope full of paperwork and had me fill some things out.

Then they weighed me (I have, according to their scale, lost 10 lbs in the past couple of months), checked my breathing, and we spoke to the anesthesiologist. He asked a bunch of questions (what medications I’m on, if my asthma is horrible, when my last surgery was), and that was it. We were out of there by 10:30.

On the way home, we stopped off to visit our little dude. He is cute, and he is sweet, and he is getting SO BIG! Let’s compare, shall we?

6 days old:

4 weeks old:

Things are falling into place for my surgery. When I met with the doctor he said that the operation would likely take place in September/October, and to book 2 weeks off work for recovery. That freaked me the hell out. Not that recovery would take 2 weeks, but that I had to take 2 weeks off work. If you knew how much I absolutely detest taking time off because I hate prepping for a sub, you would know how the prospect of having to prep for 2 weeks’ worth of subs (most of whom might not speak French – and starting the year on that foot would make it hellish to my guys to speak any French in class once I came back) made me want to saw off my own face.

Anyway, I got a call on Monday from the O.R. booking person, to tell me that I needed to go in Thursday (today) and Friday (tomorrow) for some pre-surgery testing. And that they’d be poking holes in me on July 31st. OH YES JULY 31ST! That means I will not have to do any sub stuff! And that I will be able to lay on the couch all day and not feel guilty about leaving little kids with a stranger!

I booked this afternoon off, and went in to my local hospital for the mysterious tests. They hadn’t actually told me what the tests were for today, and I of course hadn’t thought to ask so I had no clue when I got there as to what would be happening. I registered at the desk. They made me up a hospital bracelet. At this point I started worrying, because don’t you usually get a hospital bracelet when they’re admitting you? Or at least when they’re doing something that they think might kill you, so that they can identify your corpse?
Also: they hadn’t told me to, but I had been fasting since 6 pm yesterday (better safe than sorry is my motto) and it was 1 pm and I WAS HUNGRY.

For the first round of testing, they took my blood. Three vials. The nurse was impressive and didn’t have to put the needle in my hand like last time – she got the blood right out of my arm. And then she cut my bracelet off and told me to go home.

Wait wait… what? By this time, it was 1:05 pm. I very well could have gone back to work (afternoon classes start at 1:15) and not had to give up half of a sick day! But I had already gotten my friend in for the afternoon to sub for me so I couldn’t. Instead, I came home, ate 900 brownies, and prepped for tomorrow’s sub. It won’t be a very difficult day for whoever shows up; I finished up all the curriculum in most of my classes today, so they’ll be watching movies. One class will be getting ready for their STI presentations (they love learning about syphilis! They especially love Google Image Searching syphilis – yeah don’t do it, I warn you). That’s it.

Tomorrow morning I have to be in the not-local hospital (where the surgery will be performed) by 9:20 am, which means we’ll be leaving here around 7:30 am. They want to test me for anesthesia reactions, since I have asthma. I don’t even know what that means. Do they put me to sleep? Do they just give me a tiny dose of the drugs? What do they do? I booked the whole day off for this, because whatever they’re doing, I’m not going to want to go back to work afterward. I am going to want to be a couch burrito and watch BBUK and (shamefacedly) I’m A Celebrity – Get Me Out Of Here! because, well, you-know-who is on there.