Germs Suck

Olive cat
Olive Cat sitting up against the wall.

Haven’t had a marathon sick-fest in a few years. Sure, people get colds, fevers, broken arms, lice. But not the current, virulent scourge my little snotty family has withstood for the good part of a month.

First the ladies busted out with twinsie fevers after running around a little too long in one of the hundreds of snowstorms that have dumped on the Mid-Atlantic this year, then Mimi went on to a week of on and off fevers coupled with chest cold, nighttime hacking, antibiotic delirium, a rare ear infection and the beginnings of pink eye. Then husband got a very nasty bronchitis that has dragged on for at least five weeks and lots of weird medication.  Then I got an unsavory sinus and ear infection coupled with, yes, pink eye. Antibiotics have actually helped me over what was a never ending situation. And then, of course, Beenie was like a 102 degree zombie when I picked her and Mimi up from school yesterday. Home again home again, jiggity jig.

I’m reminded of the bad old days of non-stop coughing, angry infants who would not, could not sleep a wink. Which meant I didn’t get to sleep either, which in the olden days didn’t matter as much as it does now — now that I am supposed to appear to be a coherent person at my job. I can’t imagine how horrible going back to work after having the girls would have been. I would have been such a useless employee. I don’t know how single parents do it, goddess bless them.

InterplanetaryA cavalcade of illness like this, dancing from one unwitting host to the next under the same roof, causes a shift in normal operations. I am the mobile device, nighttime checker of fevers and deliverer of liquids and liquid cough and fever remedies if need be. I check regularly to make sure the children are alive. I assume the husband is alive if he’s made it this far. As for myself, I believe I am still alive, though a variable volumed left ear sometimes causes me to wonder if I’m floating in a nocturnal plane. I am, actually. I set up a small pull out futon in the office, which during these times of duress I refer to as the European hotel room. Jokingly refer, with some wistful sense of lost youth, because I did get to stay in small European hotel rooms when I was young and unencumbered by things like other people’s health. I like my single lady’s servants quarters. I stay up extra late on the computer even though it makes waking up the next morning terrible. But you know what? I don’t give a shit.

Finished a new, small map. It took a ridiculous amount of time to complete, but I kinda like it.

4 a.m. hack-up call

nitewalk
This is where I write that I had to come down to “sleep” on the couch at 4 this morning because of the post nasal drip in my throat that was making me cough. This is where I complain about not getting enough sleep last night and how my left ear is plugged up and none of this would have been the case if I’d taken what’s left of my special cough medicine last night before retiring. This is where my headache travels from one side of my head to the other. This is where I type that I have to pee, which is frustrating since I feel as if I just did.

Chorus: I’m so sick of being sick!
It’s February. Get used to it!
I DON’T WANNA GET USED TO IT!

Old pal bumped into Robert Plant at LAX this past week. I wonder what rock god I’ll be bumping into in Baltimore…I suppose I would have to leave the house if that were to happen, eh? And, are there any rock gods roaming the streets of Charm City?