Baby Stepping Back In

I have not kicked the bucket...though I have thrown up, spit, and hawked (as in loogies, not birds) into one. I get sick once about every five years - but one illness for each of the past five years put me on my backside for the majority of the past three weeks. A nasty stomach-afraid-to-move-because-i-am-gonna-throw-up virus shut it down for a week. A week later, a large cat (the doctor called it bacterial pneumonia) took up residence in my chest for another eight days. In-between was an awesome six days of confirmation experience that I will tell you about another time. Here, now, is the death toll from the dirty double dozen of days.

- 11 days of work missed
- 16 days sleeping alone on the couch or quarantined in the bedroom
- 7 I'm-not-gonna-make-it Exorcist style projectile flinging
- 2 pairs of paints ruined
- 3 Sunday youth groups shortened, canceled, or modified
- 1 crucifix clutched around the clock
- 72 hours of shortness of breath...laying on the couch
- 4 bottles of medicine sitting on the nightstand next to me at any given time...with crackers
- 19.7 percent of Stockton's life...missed due to illness (3 weeks of 16 total weeks)
- 102.5 degrees; the highest fever I have ever had in my life
- 1 three-week message series completely scrapped

So, I think I'm back. I think I'm better. But I don't want to jinx it.