So, I'm still alive. I think. I went to the ER yesterday because I was coughing up a little blood. The docs are erring on the side of caution and although they sent me home, they're treating me for tuberculosis. I know, TB? In today's day and age? Well, the meds that I was put on for the Crohn's has lowered my immune system enough to make me susceptible to the infection. I think I only have pneumonia, but I'd rather they take the precautions necessary. So I'm home. Not allowed to go anywhere. Except stir crazy. I've played all my crack games on Facebook. Faxed the courthouse regarding my divorce, texted friends. Frittered the day away online. I'm too bored to sleep even. I'm going to have to take a sleeping pill later.
While I was in the ER, they gave me a dose of morphine. This was good...it immediately took away the pain in my joints from my fever. Bad thing? Remember my last post about wanting to say something that I haven't been able to? Yeah. Well. I said it. Or rather, I text it.
So, I think that in my morphine-induced coma, I screwed up a really good relationship. I'm being completely neurotic about it. Have been all day. I keep wondering if I screwed up. I really want to talk to him, but I can't have contact with him. And he's not really a phone person. This bites in so many ways. I suppose I should take it as a sign that he's still texting me, right? That maybe I didn't screw up that horribly? I don't know....
Being sick. Screwing up relationships. Sounds like my MO.