Back in November I had a debilitating phlegm-y nasty cough for the majority of the month. I kept convincing myself that it would get better on its own and I couldn't possibly break from my busy schedule just to see a doctor. Then a new hire, on his third week of training said: "You know you've been sick since I met you."
I tore myself away from my Saturday of coffee drinking/leaf watching/rain avoidance to go to my local Minute Clinic. Lifesavers those RNs. Ten minutes later and I was out the door with bronchitis and four different medications to get me through the rest of the week.
I got home, took the medications and despite their lack of codeine fell instantly asleep on the couch only to wake up and hour later and discover that the cough medicine had "disagreed with me". As I was hugging the porcelain throne, I lay there uncomfortably warm against the cool tile waiting for someone to come in and ask if I was okay. But Roommate was out and the Captain can't move, so I crawled back out to the living room and nestled myself back on the futon. All at once I just wanted my mom.
24 years old, independently moved out to Chicago to pursue my own goals, have the ability to pay rent all by myself and yet, I still need my mom. Running Buddy and I laughed about it: college degrees, full time jobs, almost to our thirties, and I still want my mom to check up on me and bring me ginger ale. Of course when I'm sick isn't the only time I need my mom. Other times include when I want to see that new musical/romantic/Brad Pitt movie and no one will go with me, when I can't figure out how to switch a magazine subscription, and when my new healthcare plan just doesn't make any sense...
That's why I'm pumped to be seeing her on Sunday!
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