I think I had a bad reaction to the new med that my Rheumatologist prescribed. Or I just had a super-duper flare-up experience. Spiked a fever, was dizzy and nauseous, had an agonizing headache–the kind where you can feel your heartbeat in your skull and wish your heart would stop–and was too sore to move for all of yesterday. Spent most of the time curled up in a whimpering ball, praying for sleep or any other form of unconsciousness–delirium, coma, death, whatever. But for all my misery, it passed, for the most part, in 24-hours. I’m still weak and woozy today, but my fever has gone down, my head feels fragile but fine otherwise, and while I’m still sore, it’s a tolerable ache. Weird.
So that was my day yesterday.
I think Hobkin knew that I was feeling terrible. He spent all of yesterday curled up with me, even when I knew I had to be overheating him with my feverishness. ‘Course when I’m burning up with a fever, having a furry, heat-radiating lumpkin at my side was a little sweltering, but still, it was nice having him there. And fosteronfilm was an excellent nurse. He brought cooling relief in the form of chilled soda cans to have me hold and apply to my forehead, and he brought me soup. My hubby and skunkie love me.
I queried a submission I had with Vestal Review since April. Their response: “We have replied to all April submissions This means your story was rejected.” Humph. They didn’t answer the salient question I asked: “Did you receive it?” *grumble grumble* Fine. Next market!