In high school, whenever I was sick and my brother saw me he'd always say:
"How are you feeling, sicko?"
Perhaps not the most encouraging thing to hear when you already feel like crap, but all the same I miss my brother saying that to me right now. When you're sick you just want to be at home. My dorm room is definitely not home at the moment. It's small and singular and stuffy. It's messy (and yes, that's my fault) and unorganized (that too).
I started feeling sick this round (it has been going on and off for a month-ish) friday afternoon. What gave me the big clue was that I slept all afternoon and woke up with a blistering headache. Blech. Blech. Blah. I carried on as normal hoping I could simply shrug it off, but when I woke up Saturday morning and went to be a team mom for the last game my team would play this season, I couldn't yell, scream, or holler, let alone talk loudly. My voice was barely above a whisper. Fast forward to Sunday and where my sinuses began to have pressure and I had no voice at all.
So yesterday I went to a local clinic. Let me tell you in advance, not all clinics are like the one I am used to seeing in the television series "House". I expected busy, rude people but was met with the exact opposite, which was more then appealing. The doctor said I had serious sinus congestion and that the fluid was going everywhere in my head, which was causing the pressure. He prescribed me some things and then I woke up today with my ears on fire. Yuck. I immediately returned to the clinic and the doctor said that the medicine could take two to three days to begin relieving the pressure and my ear ache was probably largely due to fluid resting behind my ears.
That's a nice picture, isn't it? Fluid. Behind your ears.
So they cleaned out my ears and shot water over and over inside to get anything out that would be helping the pressure in any way. Did they succeed? Yes. Do I feel better? No. It hurt. Water gushing inside of your ears for an hour is not the best way to relieve that pressure that's bouncing around in your head in the first place.
So now I'm here, in my dorm room. It's cloudy outside and pretty grey inside. I have two of my hardest finals tomorrow in the same morning and all I can think to myself is "How in the world am I going to do this?" I can barely focus on not crying from the pain as it is. I know, I'm a baby. You don't have to tell me twice, but this really hurts. I wanted to ask the doctor just to knock me out but I didn't think he would think that to be funny.
And I'm sitting here on my bed, my prescriptions on my desk and my comforter laid out in disarray on my bed asking God why. Why am I here right now? How am I supposed to finish strong when I can't work? How can 2 weeks sound like a lifetime? Why can't He just take all the pressure in my head off for five minutes so I can breathe like a normal person?
Which always leads to bigger questions, because when you're frantic things get crazy in your head.
I remember a few weeks ago when I had a meltdown and someone completely turned the tables on me. During my meltdown I questioned everything about any human being that I'd ever come into contact with. I questioned my call. I questioned my hope and faith in the human race and my call in response to that. Lots of questions... because life is a big question at some points.
I was in a class this week and the professor was discussing how God can give us vision of the great things that are going to happen in our lives. We see the high points, but we don't necessarily envision all the low points it's going to take to get us to the high points.
Valid assumption. I think that's very true.
So, this is a low point on the way to my high point. It's kind of like construction on the beach.
Not the best way to end a post, but all the same...