It's not a tumor.

To those of you whom I a) haven't seen since Thursday, b) talked to on the phone since Thursday, or c) read my Twitter stream since Thursday, I've been baby-knock, knock, knocking on death's door.

Thursday morning I woke in Portland with a clogged head. Ears, nose, throat--the trifecta of summer head cold delight.

My bi-coastal flight on Friday stressed my ears; I was truly worried my eardrums were going to explode. Unable to pop them upon landing, my hearing was underwater for the next two days.

Saturday I was half-way into my swimming suit before that idea was tossed to sea. Back into bed where I spent the remainder of the day. May I present this travesty of a tweet:

Having only slept 4 hours the night before Sunday, I still managed to drag myself out of bed and to church for Sacrament Meeting. I sang two verses of a rather rousing opening hymn before the book was too heavy to hold up any longer. No more singing, no more book holding.

I'd had high hopes for Monday. Sadly, the cough, the running face, and the bass voice still wanted to hang around.

Okay, so Monday night, I hardly slept a wink. In fact, it was 6:45 am Tuesday morning before I even fell asleep. I just wasn't sleepy. Sleep wouldn't, couldn't come. I showered at 2:15am, took pills at 3:30am, and wrote an email to work at 5:06am.

Why? Well, a) I wasn't sleepy. And b) I was letting my overtaxed, overtired, overwhelmed brain create anxiety. You see, there's a symptom I haven't told you about. The hand tremors. Only at night, my right hand shakes. Sometimes, it spasms more than others, but enough that it's noticeable, and it freaked me out. That, paired with the control I've lost in my left hand:

Suddenly, everything made sense. I probably had a BRAIN TUMOR. Sleep? A possibility of the past as my mind raced in a hundred splintered directions. The only way I got the 90 minutes of sleep I did was to tell myself I'd see the doctor first first first thing in the morning.

Long story short. It's not a tumor. (Probably.) Hand tremors are a common side effect of antihistamines. My viral summer cold is working its way out the door. I'm not contagious, so it's okay for me to start coughing in your mouths again. Mostly, I can't wait until the man voice is gone. Wait, I take it back. I can't wait until the cankersores and swollen tastebuds are gone. (When it rains, it pours.)

Folks, this is what happens when you let an overtired mind wander and you watch too many medical shows on television.

But, the left still might have the palsy. Stay tuned.