Peace of Toast

Doctor, ain't there nothin' I can take
I said Doctor, to relieve this bellyache
I said Doctor, ain't there nothin' I can take
I said Doctor, to relieve this bellyache
Lime in the Coconut - Harry Nilsson

I've gotten less than 10 hours of sleep in the past week. Last night I got zero. My brain is so fried that if eaten by a zombie his triglycerides would immediately go off the charts. Assuming zombies check things like that, of course.

I'm 26 weeks pregnant, and my rock-n-roll dreams were just thrown a big ol' curve. I've been put on total bed rest for the remainder of my pregnancy, which we're hoping and praying will go to term (37-40 weeks). Once I hit 37 weeks I can leave my couch, but for the next 11 weeks, here I sit. Or lie, rather. Oy.

Forgive me if this post takes on a stream-of-consciousness rambling tone. Like I said, I'm fried.

The lack of sleep is due to one of the most common pregnancy ailments, GERD - or reflux as we all know it. In my case it's taking on epic proportions. I'm getting it from the regular, run-of-the-mill causes, such as the growing baby and the extra progesterone. But due to my history of pregnancy loss and preterm labor, I'm also required to take weekly progesterone injections. And now I'm being asked to lie down 24/7. If you've ever had reflux, you know how impossible lying down is.

This situation is not without its humorous side though. Thanks to my insomnia, I've posted some interesting things to my pregnancy support group, including the following gems:

"My husband gives it to me in the butt once a week. It hurts going in, and it aches for a day or two after, but it's totally worth it." (Me explaining how I get my progesterone shots to a young expectant mother who will be starting the shots soon and is looking for others who've been there.)

"All I've had today is the peace of toast...." (Me bitching about not being able to eat due to reflux.)

I meant, of course, "piece" of toast. But in retrospect, I like "peace of toast". It sounds like some sort of kabalistic, new-agey type of nirvana. Or a Facebook application.

Would that I could achieve the Peace of Toast at the moment. To be lying here, warm... golden... buttery. Mmmmm. Even the Catholic in me likes the imagery. Jesus-the-wafer is cold, dry and totally unappealing. Jesus Toast is warm, approachable and easier to digest. Him as Comfort Food. I think I'm onto something, folks. Forget music, I'm going where there's real money - Televangelism!

I'm starving. I could sure go for some Host, eggs & coffee right now.