Lots

I really (really) didn't want to go back to work (as I'm well enough to do so after two and a half weeks off.)

As I was lying in bed on Saturday night, looking grumpily forward to Monday morning and having to get up and go to work the thought popped into my head that being sick when you live alone is a full time job.

Now I know that living with others doesn't guarantee that anything is different and that for parents, most especially mothers, being sick just means doing all the things while sick so I'm fortunate in that I have no one else I'm responsible for, but for me, at least, the last few weeks of being sick were a lot of work.

Any food consumed?  I had to find it, make it, go out and buy it and clean up after it.  I had to try to keep on top of laundry, especially in the early days of being very sick, feeling like I was breathing germs on everything.  Cleaning whatever needed cleaned (dishes, floors, surfaces, self), watching the weather and deciding to push to get groceries before the possible snow came.  Working hard to keep hydrated.  Keeping the kettle going to keep warm water ready for hot water bottles and drinks and steam.  Remembering to take medications at the right times.  Maintaining an apartment (garbage, recycling, etc.)

I mean I do all these things all the time by myself anyway but I think it was the fact I was returning to work after two weeks of not really NOT working.  I mean sure, there was a LOT of time, hours and hours a day spent on my couch and then in bed, but I do not feel rested.  I do not feel like "ahhh that was a lovely break!"  It wasn't a break.  I guess that's what I'm saying.  What I'm kind of whining about.

Like this weekend, thinking about going back to work I felt very sorry for myself and like I wanted to take a week off just to relax and enjoy some down time after the stupid not fun ick yucky time I just went through.

My days when I wasn't well were awful.  And it's not like I could look forward to going to bed and sleeping.  I distinctly remember going to bed one night and thinking "what fresh hell awaits me tonight?"  So there wasn't even 'ahhh bed' to look forward to or get me through a day.  

Soooooo yeah, feeling sorry for myself I suppose and whining since I'm allowed to here! 

Life keeps happening, doesn't it.  No matter what.