deep dish decisions

Alright, it's been debbie downer up in here lately, so this is the last post on that note, I promise. 


I've been sick, thankfully not grievously so, but still sick, for a long time now. I completely lost my voice Sunday, and sounded so terrible at work yesterday that I was sent away from the office by my boss, who came up to my desk saying "multiple people have expressed concern about your health, Jenny," and was then recognized by the admitting nurse at urgent care (from my New Year's day visit a few weeks ago). On top of all of that, today I had to make the painful decision to call off my trip to Utah. 


See, when I asked her about my ability to travel and ski, the doctor was non-committal. She diagnosed me with a double ear infection and an upper respiratory infection, and sent me away with three separate prescriptions, one of which involved narcotics. But she told me the decision to get on a plane was up to me based on how I felt. (I really love making decisions, in case you haven't met me and experienced that firsthand)


Well, I felt, and still feel, crappy. Tired, constant ache in my chest, nagging scary cough, extremely diminished appetite. You name a generic winter-time illness symptom, and I probably have it, and am repulsing everyone within a square mile with it. But I'd been so looking forward to this trip, especially since it was one of the more impulsive things I'd planned in ages. And my friends were going! And I've never been to Utah! The pro/con thing was piling more stress on my already broken down little body. 


Ultimately I knew I wouldn't be able to have a wholly good time in Utah. My friends would be out skiing or at Sundance parties, and I'd be sipping soup back at my coworker's house. I'd get back to DC Sunday in the sort of shape I'm already in, or worse (and no one wants to avoid another brush with bronchitis more than me). I've been sick for so long now that I couldn't really envision improving enough to enjoy Utah in a mere 24 hours. And let's not even talk about how difficult it is for me to get on a plane on a good day, not to mention when I'm ill. 


But man was it depressing to sit there with my friend Neha while we called United to cancel my ticket. I feel awful leaving her to travel by herself, and the reality of my decision to not go stung. Not traveling for the sake of my health was the adult thing to do, but I may or may not have shed a tear or two like a child. 


And so when I left work early to come home and rest/mourn my trip, in similarly child-like fashion, I indulged in a single-serving deep dish cookie and ice cream for dessert. It was inspired by this recipe, but made with applesauce, flour, sugar, egg white, salt, baking soda, and chocolate chips. I'll have to hunt down the recipe when I'm not under the influence of the aforementioned narcotic cough syrup. For now, I'm off to bed in the hopes that my body allows me a night of real sleep, and that I can just be at peace with my decision.