Thursday, December 11, 2014
The storm of the decade has arrived and brought with it pounding rains, hurricane force winds, fallen trees, power outages and mudslides. Never mind. I'm safe and warm in my lighted and warm house. I have books on the kindle, hot tea and lemons,
I didn't sleep well last night partly because I was waiting for the pounding rain to come through our bedroom ceiling, or for a tree to come crashing through the house. I had flashlights and candles stacked in every room because if there's one thing I am, it's prepared. There was another reason I didn't sleep last night. I'm sick.
One week ago today, my husband Alex came home after work complaining of a cold, a sore throat, a cough, a headache, and a hurting stomach. Upon observation of him, I did notice that his eyes were a little more "glassy" than normal and he had a slight flush on his cheeks. I insisted that we check his temperature and was unhappy to see that he was running a fever of 101 degrees. I gave him some over the counter cold pills, and some Aspirin and told him to go to bed.
Alex enjoys being taken care of, and I am a good nurse. The only part of this situation that isn't 100% fun is that I hate being exposed to illnesses. Alex and I both have had flu shots, so I doubted that it was the dreaded influenza, but I still don't want to catch what he's got. I wash my hands every time I touch him or anything he has touched. I avert my face from him so he can't blow cooties on me. I'm careful.
I make every effort to keep the man comfortable so that he has no reason to venture out of bed, or move for that matter. I don't want him spreading his germs all over the place and if I can contain him, all the better for me. The problem is that Alex does not like being contained. He likes to walk through the entire house, and touch everything with his germy hands. If he's not touching things, he's sneezing or coughing on, or toward, things in every part of the house. If I bed down in one of the guest bedrooms, I am generally awakened when Alex crawls into bed with me and wants to sleep "with" me.
Fine. As a result of all this, of course I got sick with Alex's crud. After 3 days of coughing fits and a sore throat, I have completely lost my voice. I cannot make a sound. I cannot yell at Alex for making me catch his germs. I can't even whisper. I have been struck dumb.
As of today, Alex is officially "feeling much better". I, on the other hand, have another 4 or 5 days to go before I will improve. In the photo above, it looks like I have a wonky left eye. I assure you that is not the case. Sleep deprivation causes it. Not being able to talk makes it worse.
Much as I am tired of coughing my damn fool head off, I am even more tired of having to keep mum on how much I blame my husband for my condition.