I suppose I'm feeling better.
I'm not myself.
I'm not hungry.
I can't sleep.
I hurt and feel pretty sick to my stomach.
(Millions of antibiotics have wrecked havoc on my bowels.)
I'm not feeling particularly grateful.
I'm pretty much sick of being sick.
It is good to be home.
My babies are all growing up while I'm away.
Yesterday, Lily asked me to read her a bedtime story. She said she can't even remember if I know how to read.
Broke my sick little heart...