It all began with David. Dear, sweet, unassuming David. He sniffled. Then he sneezed. Then he coughed. Then he wheezed.
I quickly moved into plague mode, dosing him with Sudafed by day and Children's Nyquil at night. I hooked up the vaporizer in his room for the overnight, bought the Vicks Vapo-Steam and checked him for fever on a daily basis. Finally, the congestion began to wane.
Just in time for Anna to pick it up, of course, and in her typical style of not doing anything by half-measure, it amplified. She had the congestion, all right. Then she added the cough and had it so hard she burst blood vessels in her face. Then the fever came on with it's bone-aching lethargy and glazed-over eyes. Two days she was out of school, and me out of work in a critical week for my employer. Not a great scenario. Her fever broke and she staggered through most of the next day of school, exhausted and not totally recovered, and the next day she was at home again. I was glad we had the weekend for her to finish getting good and healthy again.
Just in time for me to get it. And true to it's previous course - it has amplified. Someone has shoved a serrated knife down my throat, after beating me head to toe with a sock full of nickels. I cough and I swear to you, I feel it pull from somewhere near my shins. I have a gargantuan fever, and I am decidedly bleary. In fact, I suspect this is more than a little rambling and ridiculous, as far as blog posts go.
I am ill. My children have illed me.
And on that note, I will head back to my couch, my heating pad, and my favorite fuzzy blanky. I'll try to reach one hand out of my crypt tomorrow, if I can, and give you an update.
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