29 Years

Back at the beginning of October, I celebrated my 29^th birthday, although I use the word celebrate very loosely, as I was beyond sick. I was scheduled to work three days in a row due to my mother’s surgery and my plans to take some PTO, which I was not excited about (working three in a row, not the PTO, I always like time off work), nor was I excited about working on my birthday. The morning of my first shift I woke up around 4 am feeling crummy; however, it was too late to call in sick (we have to do that at least four hours prior to our shift), so I sucked it up and went to work, hoping I would somehow feel a little bit better. I did a little bit, but mostly because I was working with my coworker who is a recent breast cancer survivor, and it is hard to feel sorry for myself, when I think of everything she has gone through this year. All day I went back and forth between trying to decide if I wanted to call in sick the next day or not. I figured it would look fishy if I called in sick on my birthday and right before I left on “vacation.” However, once I got home and felt even worse, I decided that I didn’t care what my coworkers thought, plus I was pretty sure they would be okay not sharing my germs, so I called in sick and the majority of the next two days were spent on my couch or in bed sleeping. I think it was my “favorite” birthday ever. 

I was still feeling really crummy on Friday, the day I was supposed to go to my moms, but I figured I had already committed to helping my parents out, and in theory their couch was as comfortable as mine. I did mostly chillax when I got there on Friday, but Saturday was filled with errands, plus I was trying to help Kevin find his elk license (which he found once he drove back to Salt Lake). After all of that I was exhausted and it felt like my oxygen saturations were in the toilet. I felt like my brain was beyond oxygen deprived. My parents (especially my father) were starting to freak out a bit, so they talked me into going to the instacare in Park City. Of course I was fine, but the doctor had me freaked out about a pulmonary embolism caused by birth control pills. Plus, on top of that, the MA was someone I went to high school with, so that made me feel even more like a hypochondriac. After a chest x-ray, labs, and a breathing treatment, they decided I wasn’t going to immediately die, so they sent me home. I think I finally felt better a couple of days later. This visit was more low-key than previous visit, as I didn’t have to deal with the woolies or garden. My dad and Luna didn’t even clash much. I even almost convinced my dad’s friend Lynn that Luna wasn’t a bloodthirsty killer. Plus, it was refreshing that I only had to work one shift before I had my next day off.