Oh good lord, Maynard, where the hell have I been? I hope I didn’t alarm you too much by my last frantic post, but it was a hellova time.
Sergei was sick with pneumonia and pleurisy the entire month of January, and spent the majority of those days in hospital. Which was scary. Really scary. There were days when I didn’t think he’d ever come home. Days when I questioned the authority of the doctors and their ability to make timely decisions. Times when I had to bite the inside of my cheeks to keep the tears away from the kids, who were equally scared to see their darling dad hooked up to machines and IVs, weak and pale and unable to get a good breath. Thank the gods that we had a kick-ass family doctor who brought in a team (TEAM) of infectious disease doctors, and involved half the pulmonary staff, and who was at the hospital every day checking on Sergei and ordering tests that the other doctors didn’t think “necessary”. He made all the difference. I think I need to send him a nice fruit basket. Gradually things got better for Sergei, after they made him a Human Pincushion with IVs and treatments, tests that never did show the specific bacteria that caused the disease, and a myriad of antibiotics and tubes in his lungs and procedures that made all my hospital stays for childbirth and girly surgery seem like High Tea with the Queen. Sergei is still getting over it, but is clearly nearly back to his randy old self.
Since then, several other friends and acquaintances of mine have come down with pneumonia…brutal and debilitating. Next year, I swear, my entire family is getting the pneumonia shot. I don’t ever. EVER. Want to do to that again.
Girl-child’s birthday was the end of January, and last weekend we had her Birthday Party sleepover with some of her friends. The cloud of potential-estrogen hung heavy in the air. Sergei and Boy-child sequestered themselves upstairs with Playstation2 and food. I realized that my girl and her friends are definitely Alpha Girls. Yeah, her teenage years will be fun.
I fell in love with “Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy” all over again.
I loathed, then admired, then added to my Fantasy Boyfriend List, Finn cum German Stefan from Top Chef Season 5. How arrogant. How cocky. How talented. That man can peel my eel any time. He nearly got voted off last night, but lived to make it to the Final Four. Verdammte ScheiBe, Stefan!
I realized how wonderful having medical insurance is.
And how lucky I am to have family and friends checking on us, even though I related the same “How’s Sergei” status several dozen times a day.
I realized that I missed this bloggy place, even though my posts have been dwindling in general these last few months, I’ve missed having a place for me.
And that I love Bacon, and would marry it, especially if it gave me a donut as an engagement ring.
Stefan's Got the Mad Eel Skillz: