I tell any physician of mine that I am, universally, a bad patient. I can’t help it. I always think I know better than anyone else what to do when it comes to me. Maybe it was because I was that weird allergy kid who seemed to be a the physician’s office a LOT when I was a kid. I’m not sure.
I started feeling poorly on Friday, but wait, this is Super Bowl weekend, my first big food event of the year and I had plans – dammit – and food to make and new recipes to try … and blah blah blah.
If I had been smart, which I’m not apparently, I would have listened to the Man of the House and just laid low, gotten some rest, stayed doped on up on benedryl to dry up my head, but NO, I wanted to finish all the things I planned. In the end, I just made myself more miserable, had to cancel our plans, and still feel pretty much like dirt. I don’t think I’m ever going to learn.
Sometimes you just can’t do it all. And that bites.