You know I'm officially sick when I say no to ice cream, pirate booty and even chocolate chip cookies. I've been miserable for a week now and it doesn't seem to be getting any better. I'm existing on milk alone since I have no appetite. Come Wednesday, I'll have seen the doctor three times. Initially I was told I had something called pig flu but after having a tiny q-tip shoved up to what I thought was my brain matter, it was determined that I didn't have it. Last Friday I was put on antibiotics for the mega humungous enlarged lymph node on the left side of my neck. It is so painful that I spend most of the day whinning and in tears. We went back to the doctor this morning as the evil lump doesn't seem to be getting any smaller. A switch up in the antibiotics this time - I might just be resistant to the first one. Plus, she threw in a test for TB. Eek! Meanwhile, my body seems to be a barf machine. And if I have to take any more motrin, I just might die! I have to say that I've become an expert medicine taker. I get stickers for it in recognition of being the local medicine man. The beauty of my illness is that mommy crawls in bed with me in the middle of the night when I wake up screaming. I've been running a fever of about 102 and it seems to spike in the night. Mommy is secretly enjoying how calm I've been lately - she's not used to me lying around on the couch all day. With this, brings lots and lots of TV. I've practically memorized all of the Sid the Science Kid episodes. Everyone else is so tired of it. Mommy is on the verge of a breakdown. But don't tell anyone. It's a secret that only I seem to know. She's pretty tired these days. She keeps telling me she'll sleep when she's dead.