*Cough*

I'm sick. I'm talkin' coughing-up-a-lung, head pounding, feels like someone's sitting on my chest sick. Lost my voice over the weekend too, which made my mom think I was on my deathbed when I spoke to her on Sunday. Chris got really good at understanding what I was trying to say by studying my face and hearing every third syllable coming out of my mouth. "....you........some.......-ease?" "You'd like some ice cream?" "...essssss!"

So I finally cave and go to the doctor (if you know me you know this means I truly must be feeling pretty miserable) today.

What I got: An invitation to a "killer" party my doctor and his brothers are hosting at his uncle's sweet spread on neighboring Cane Island this Saturday. It's a "pig pickin'" (you have to be from the South to know this term), with 300-400 guests expected and a live band will be playing. The invite has been extended to Kim and Amy (and of course Chris and Kostyn).

What I didn't get: Any form of medication to relieve my symptoms. Because I'm breastfeeding he said my best bet was to go to the pharmacy and ask the pharmacist what cough medicine is safe to take. This seemed odd to me, since I was paying him, not the pharmacist, but hey ... I don't tend to question doctors. I just listen and nod and get the hell out of there.

So I stopped at CVS on the way home and asked the pharmacist to recommend a cold/cough medicine to take while breastfeeding. "Oh no," he said, "I can't do that. You have to get a recommendation from your doctor."

"I did get a recommendation from my doctor. He recommended I ask you."

He didn't seem to find this amusing. Trust me, buddy, neither did I. *Cough cough cough*