(Annie's not my nemesis, she makes me happy. It's the cold sore, dang it.)
Cold sore, smold smore,
Have you had one before?
It's not so great,
In fact, I hate
Nothing more than my own cold sore.
Poetic license. Yes, I'm qualified to use it. English degree, remember? I had to channel my anger into something trite, simple, so as not to slump into a corner and cry.
My first cold sore reared its ugly head before I gave birth to Annie [almost 4 years ago]. I've had maybe five since then. I have one now. It's killing me, s-l-o-w-l-y. Eating? Practically impossible. I drank my OJ with a straw this morning and even that hurt. I went to lunch with some girlfriends today, ordering my food based on what could squeeze through the 1/4 inch opening of my poor little mouth. The visit was so needed, I have great friends. The rice, well, it hurt. Bad.
If I were a pioneer, I would be dead. There would be a small cross in Iowa with my name on it. Here lies Lanette. She couldn't hack it. The cold sore done her in. RIP.
My heart goes out to those with chronic pain. Any pain. I take my health for granted. Big time. It's so hard to be cheerful when you hurt. It's so hard to look outside yourself when you hurt. Life is somewhat miserable when all you can think about is yourself, your pain. I think that's why visiting with uplifting friends was just what the doctor ordered. It took me outside myself for an hour. Now, coming home to a babysitter who said my boys were crazy . . . um, not quite what the doctor ordered. I'm thinking that two days off from school is not such a good idea when Mom has a cold sore. Remember, "It's not so great, in fact, I hate nothing more than my own cold sore!"
I'm hoping to have my cheery self back soon. Life is so much better when I can smile.