A real kick in the pants

I am finally emerging from the fog that is mastitis. I am blogging about my breast infection, so if you are uncomfortable, run away now!!! (Ya wee pansy). Sweet fancy Moses. It was like I was the 3rd grader playing HORSE and mastitis was the way-too-big-for-her-age 6th grader and I'd already spelled H-O-R-S-E five times and the new rule was that she could kick me in the stomach every time I missed the shot and I couldn't stop the game. Meanie. Seriously. It was horrible. Now, I'm not trying to compare this to any serious illness or chronic condition, but I lay there in my bed praying that Jeff would get home before Beck woke up so he could bring him to me. Crawling was considered. And nursing? Great Googly Moogly. Ow, ow, ow. I was freezing with two heating pads, a down comforter and a feather bed on top of me and then burning hot. Not ever leaving my bed again was definitely considered. Bleh. Let's not do that again. Ever.