Under the quilts for a cause

There's nothing like spending your day among a bunch of people who are coughing, hacking, teary eyed, pale or flush faced and generally feeling more miserable than they look. It's even worse when they look at you like you're the one everyone should fear. At least I had my handkerchief over my mouth, even if I did totally involuntarily kick the pharmaceutical rep who got stuck with the seat next to mine. It was a reflex, I promise. My whole body jerks when I'm coughing now.

Now, that I'm home and settled into my frigid house, I have some very nice, mildly buzz inducing and thoroughly foul tasting cough syrup and doctor's orders to do nothing but rest and drink a lot of fluids, even if I don't feel up to eating. This cup of hot chocolate, the stack of dvds and the pile of blankets are doctor's orders, people, and I follow instructions well. My stack of books includes The Poetry of Pablo Neruda, Medieval Writings on Female Spirituality (Five people have quoted Julia of Norwich to me lately. It's time to read her again), A Movable Feast by Ernest Hemingway and Angry Housewives Eating Bonbons by Lorna Landvik (in case the rest is just too much).

When we were in the doctor's office on Friday, she told us that if the womanchild wasn't feeling better by Monday, we were probably looking at pneumonia instead of bronchitis. When I started feeling sick, part of me prepared for this. I've had pneumonia before, and it kicked my fanny for over a month. The flu came as good news. Yes, we both have strep throat as well. C.'s ears are still infected but better. The bronchitis is an old and familiar bete noir. So we still feel like shit, but we probably won't in a week. That beats the heck out of a month or more any day.

The husband is still outside working on our heat pump. I'm grateful for that, but I don't feel like it's anything less than what we deserve. I've always pampered my family when they've been sick. I think it's something we all deserve when we're ill. Tonight, I'm going to pamper myself. Dinner was a cheap cheese pizza served on paper plates. No fuss, no muss. The hot chocolate though is the good ground Ghiarardeli mixed with milk steamed by my cappuccino machine, sweetened with honey and topped with fat free, sugar free whipped cream. If it weren't for the antibiotics, there'd be a shot of Bailey's in there. In the mean time I've got cough syrup.

flu