Adventures with Hodgkin's

Here is the true sign of a current pregnant woman, former cancer patient--no sympathy for anyone else's "illness". Yes, I said "illness"; imagine me holding up two fingers and making the sign. Kevin left work early today because his stomach was bothering him. "Bothering him" means he barely got through a meeting without hurling on the desk. He got home before Conor and I, emptied said stomach through a method I did not ask about and will not speculate on, and fell asleep. He work up at Conor's bedtime and decided to go downstairs and get something to eat.

You can't get up, I told him! You have to get back in bed because I told Conor he could snuggle with you and I have things to do. And so I sent Conor in there with him and disappeared.

Aren't I terrible?

Before you think I'm too heartless, I checked on him twice after getting home, asking if he needed anything. He didn't. And anyone who's ready for food isn't really sick, right?

Someone remind me this isn't a competition.

Given that this is my second time pregnant during the holidays, I can confirm that it is THE time of year to be pregnant. Loose-fitting clothing and and a license to eat--yeah, baby! You can look across the table at guests who are commenting on how they went running that morning so they feel justified in having dessert and smile brightly and say, "That's nice. Would you pass the stuffing? And the gravy, too."

On the flip side, once you're done eating, the fun is over. So those late nights of drinking and carousing at holiday parties are over. In fact, they're downright interminable. You're tired, ready for bed, and surrounded by drunks. Yippee! Oh, and you get to drive them all home.

The four month mark--no more can't-sleep-enough exhaustion! At least when I was sleeping I could ignore the fears that swirl around. This flu shot shortage has got me. Not that I'm hanging around supermarket parking lots trying to look old, but I really think I ought to get one. Last year I made Conor get one on the grounds that he was more likely than me to be exposed. As a result, to him all shots are "flu shots". But my paranoia knows no bounds--it's not just having the flu, it's learning that exposure to influenza in utero is linked to schizophrenia.
A mom I know in the health care field, who shall remain nameless, has said she may have access to a flu shot for me. I feel like I'm buying a fake driver's license or drugs.