Dear Liver

I'm writing to apologize to you for the constant abuse.

Which I added to this afternoon.

Not only did I take the usual stuff I take during a day (NOYB, blog readers), I took two Excedrin and two aspirin (not at the same time) to cut the damn fever that attacked me this morning. Oh. And I have  sore joints and muscles and an ugly headache, too.

I have tried to make it up to you a little by forcing myself to drink about 40 ounces of water since then as well as 16 or so of Gatorade.

I hope the chicken I ate for dinner doesn't cause you any extra problems, and that you and my friend the Tummy will realize that not only did I pull the skin off and not eat it, but I also squeezed the chicken thigh between paper towels to get the grease off/out.

You see, I didn't feel like eating yesterday. I didn't know why, but now I realize it was because I was coming down with this bug. I didn't really feel like eating tonight, either, but I forced myself to eat some protein and two cookies that Lyssa baked this afternoon.

Liver? You aren't by chance responsible for the huge friggin' canker sore under my tongue, are you? It's my understanding that those are viral in nature (which makes sense when I consider how crappy I'm feeling). That canker sore is contributing to my aversion to eating a meal, too.

Never mind that I could live off my fat for the next seventy five years. That's not really the point, now is it?

Anyway Liver, I'm sorry for dumping all that stuff on you just so I could work. And I want you to know that I'm planning to dump on you again Wednesday so I can work. Because staying home when you're sick is for weenies.

And because when I stay home just because I am sick, well then, I'm sick AND I worry about how things are going in my program.

No one is me, you see. And I'm a control freak.

Have a nice day, Liver. I'll try to take better care of you tomorrow.

Love,
Mental