Clearly, I am married to the world's tallest seven-year-old. (Seriously though? He's six feet tall. That snowman is definitely pushing seven feet.)
Anyway, the family begins to descend on Nashville in T minus 2 hours. So, in case I'm not around for the next few days, Merry Christmas if you are so inclined, and Happy Holidays, Happy New Year, and have a nice break if you are not.
Or, what new and exciting medical problem do we have today? Because, really? Some things only happen to me.
So, we went to London last week. Tower of London, double-decker buses, the Tate Modern, Borough Market, Millenium Bridge, bobbies, Up Market, fish 'n' chips, more pubs than I can count, yada yada yada. All of which was great. But, the sad fact is, I got sick the last day we were there and that seems to be the first thing I can recall looking back on it. Because I was oh, so very sick. At first, I attributed it to a hangover. And then I realized that, even with the worst of hangovers, I don't normally throw up twelve hours after I've stopped drinking, and that this was something else entirely.
It got better enough that I made it back across the Atlantic the next day without incident. (Other than almost missing the boarding call for my flight because I was too busy spending my last few pounds at the Harrod's outlet in Heathrow, but that was totally not sickness-related.) I thought that was the end of it, but then I spent the next two days doubled over in mind-boggling pain because the stress of illness, travel, and jet lag conspired to completely immobilize my large intestine and render me, as my doctor so tactfully put it, "full of shit."
Several over-the-counter remedies later, things were back in motion and I was feeling better.
And then.
Last night for dinner I somehow managed to inhale some rice. And I don't mean "inhale" in the metaphorical sense, as in "I ate it so fast it was as if I inhaled it," but rather, I mean "inhale" in the literal sense, as in "I felt that sucker go right down the ol' windpipe."
After some panicked googling (which revealed nothing good, believe me), I tried to relax and go to sleep and just see what happened. After all, I couldn't feel the rice in there, so I wasn't even positive that I had inhaled it, and it wasn't like I couldn't breathe or anything. And, of course, my oh-so-sensitive husband kept assuring me that (1) I didn't inhale that rice and I was a hypochondriac and (2) even if I did inhale that rice, it was no big deal and I was a hypochondriac.
Well, as of about thirty minutes ago, I can totally feel it. It's in there. I know it. Especially if I take a good deep breath. But having consulted my trusty medical resident friend, I'm reasonably confident that I'm not likely to end up with aspiration pneumonia and that it's likely to just work its way out on its own. So we're still in wait-and-see mode. Although I am amusing myself by imagining my conversation with the doctor if it does come to that -- Well hello there! Nice to see you again! I seem to have a recurring problem in which I need help getting things dislodged from my various tracts.
But seriously, who else do these things happen to?!?
This is what it looks like on my drive to work, in Nashville, on a snow day. Seriously.
Please excuse the photo quality, as it was taken on my iPhone while I was stopped at a traffic light facing into the sun. But note the blue sky, the high, fluffy, friendly-looking clouds, and the COMPLETE AND UTTER LACK OF ANY PRECIPITATION marring the surface streets.
That is all.
And I'm not even a true believer. So the reason for this sudden outburst of religiosity?
J-P has found gainful employment in Nashville.
The details: Starting after the first of the year, four-month contract position, pleasant working atmosphere, decent pay, in his field (or close enough -- not like slinging boxes at UPS or lattes at Starbucks, both of which he considered as things grew more and more dire).
They made him sweat it out over the Thanksgiving weekend before offering him the job this morning, but it will make our London trip this coming weekend all the more celebratory.
YAY!
Edited to add:
I'm not sure my original post fully conveys what a wonderful, deliriously happy relief this is for both me and J-P. He was planning to move back to Nashville at Christmas regardless, because his job in New York is done and the long distance was just too hard to handle any more. But the prospect of facing another eight months of joblessness in Nashville (eight months because that's when my job here ends) was almost too depressing for us to contemplate. So yes, you could say that this is a HUGE relief.
Also, I'm not sure my original post conveyed just how proud I am of J-P for his perseverance, or how lucky I am, because he's done it all for me. It's been nearly sixteen months since we've been here, and J-P has gone from unemployment and job-hunting, to temping, to contract work that had him living alone in a hotel room in Bangkok for a month, to sharing a divey apartment in Queens with two roommates, all the while keeping an eye on the Nashville job market so that hopefully, one of these days, we could be here together and employed. And now, we will be.
I think this definitely deserves a belated giving of thanks.
