The Mind of Olivia Drab

When the bridge breaks

Last night was not restful. I had a series of sorrowful and emotionally crippling nightmares, undoubtedly stemming from stress.

For months now, when someone has been down in my family, I have been appealed to for support. This is fine, I don't mind doing it, but there is only so much before the well runs dry. Eventually, it gets to you. It's part of the curse of empathy. When you are an emotionally-driven being, you absorb others' feelings, good or bad.

Lauren may or may not be picking up on the matter. She has decided that sleeping at night is for suckers. Why sleep when you can keep Mommy and Daddy awake for days on end?

Between family issues, work stress, physical ailments, exhaustion... I'm in shambles. I have creative block, a bad thing any day, but especially when your workload is worse than ever. All of this leads to nightmares at night, depression in the day and panic when your deadlines approach.

I need a good, hard cry.

Joke of the Week (that's not actually a joke)

Olivia Drab walks into a urologist's office and relays the pains she's been experiencing.

She says, "I don't know what's going on, doc. My ob/gyn suggested possibly interstitial cystitis."

The doctor asks her a few poignant questions and taps the pen to her cheek before clearing her throat and saying, "I'd like to do a cystoscopy. There's a chance the endometriosis is EATING THROUGH YOUR BLADDER WALL."

*canned laughter*

Hmm... I never know how to interpret dreams.

I was sitting in the lobby of a high-rise in some city. Sitting opposite me, in a plush white leather couch was another graphic designer. We both clutched tightly to our respective portfolios, awaiting interviews.

Two men with yo-yos and bubble wands appeared in the lobby and struck up a conversation with us. They casually asked to see our portfolios. Turned out we had similar content that somehow complimented each other.

The two men turned to leave and one said over his shoulder, "You are both hired." I laughed, thinking they were kidding.

They stood under the giant sign that said, "Fran & Drescher Advertising Agency". One pointed to the other and said, "We're not kidding. He's Fran, I'm Drescher. We own the company. You are our two new HOTSHOTS!" and then they laughed like Fran Drescher.

Lauren's crying woke me up just before I rushed home to tell Brad about my awesome new job.

Winter of Our Discontent

December was chock full of medical drama. It started with Lauren's surgery on December 9, and oddly that was the least eventful of the month.

The day we brought Lauren home, I noticed that she would cough as she drifted off to sleep. It wasn't just a cough, but a worrisome, rattly cough that made my heart stop. In light of the recent organ extraction, I was a bit protective. The next day, off to the pediatrician we went. A concerned look from the doctor and xray later, and we were given the prognosis of "either a lung infection or a collapsed lung". Ha. Ha. Ha. There was a "cloud" on the xray that could have gone either way. We opted for the infection and began antibiotics.

That did the trick. The cough slowed and eventually ceased.

December 26 we took Lauren to her 15-month baby checkup. While we were there, we picked up the latest trendy virus, the norovirus. All three of us got it. I was the first to exhibit symptoms, namely being hugely and disgustingly sick between the hours of 2am and 6am (I could have sworn it was food poisoning). At 5am, Lauren barfed all over the bed, thus beginning her foray into viral hell. She was sick for the next two days, but I managed to keep her hydrated enough that she got through it fine. Brad and I, on the other hand...

At noon the next day, I had a major relapse and Brad's initial descent began. By 6pm, we were both dehydrated and miserable. I passed out in the bathroom (by some stroke of luck I had presence of thought to pass out in the bathtub rather than the floor). It was pretty obvious we had to go to the ER. Our friend Ashley came over to watch Lauren (thank GOD she was available to help, I have no idea what we would have done). Six hours, much Phenergan and two liters of fluid a piece, and we were feeling good enough to go home. Brad spent the next two days still sick as a dog.

Then Lauren developed viral pinkeye (the kind with no drops or antibiotics). Quarantine: 5 days

...And then the injection site where she had the chickenpox vaccination began to "sprout" a cluster of pox blisters. At first, I thought it was a spiderbite. Then I remembered the nurse's warning that "4% of children develop a pox-like rash, so don't be too worried if you see something..." Not surprising that my flesh would be in the small minority of "what the??" side effects.

That brings us up to date. Currently, she is in the bedroom screaming bloody murder because we are TRYING to teach her how to go to sleep on her own. It's going fretfully bad, and everyone is exhausted. I just hope it doesn't segue into yet another hideous bug. We've had our share for the season.