A very large chunk of this weekend was spent with me sprawled out somewhere (bed, sofa, living room chair, bathroom floor), grasping my jaw and silently (or not so silently) praying, "Make it stop, just please make it stop!" The culprit: the mother of all sinus infections. I never knew that sinus infections had the capacity to make one's jaws hurt so much. I mean, I have had the kind that made my eyes all watery and sensitive to light, and the kind that made my head hurt when I had to bend over to pick something off the floor, but this was a whole different world of hurt altogether.

This was a very tricky (read: lousy) weekend to have a sinus infection of such dramamtic proportions. It was jam-packed with Obligations. First, dinner Friday night at the home of some parishioners--a dinner that was important for me to attend for a host of reasons. Thank goodness for the wine. A steady but moderate stream of the stuff was enough to take the edge off enough to get through the trivia game after dinner, but too much for me to be at my sharpest. I NEVER lose trivia games, but I did this one. I'm blaming the sensation of spikes being driven into the bony structures of the left side of my cranium for that.

The next Obligation was the Saturday evening Fall Social Event for the semi-professional chorus that EOH performs with. Again, grateful for the libations which helped me to meet the director and have a fairly meaningful conversation about the upcoming oratorio, demure his invitation to audition when he figured out that I know a little bit about sacred music, explain why my work does not lend itself to such a time commitment, and then have The Conversation. (For the record, he's UMC.)

Then of course Sunday. Obligation around which all others rotate. I was hoping against hope that the antibiotics I obtained Saturday morning would be doing their anti-bacterial duty after 24 hours. Silly me. Armed with only Ibuprofen, which was severely outranked by my nerve endings, I went to lead a service which was a rare liturgical hat-trick. (Now I know why I finished the sermon on Thursday.) I'm sure it was a wonderful service, or so some parishioners said. I myself kind of blacked out during the middle of the sermon--not really blacked out,as in hit the floor, but I was definitely preaching on auto-pilot, which is a shame. I hate it when preachers do that. The throbbing had subsided somewhat by the time to confirm the four young men (see previous post), so I do remember that part of the service. After getting shanghaied by some members immediately after worship to answer some really pressing questions about next week's auction (don't get me started), I found EOH, and told him, "Take me home. Now." which he did, and I spent the rest of the day sprawled out again, trying to gut through it.

Today is better. I'm very grateful for the inventor of Amoxicillin. My spastic episodes seem to be farther and farther apart. I haven't grabbed my jaw to apply counter-pressure in about three hours now. It's a good sign.