Thursday, December 15, 2005

Share the Joy of the Season, but not the Germs

Sorry Lynnette, no pictures on this blog. You wouldn't want to see them anyway. It would not be a pretty sight...

I don’t want to see another load of laundry for at least a week.

Okay, I’m sure it will appear before the day is through, but I don’t want to see another “You’re sick so now I have to wash every article of clothing, bedding, towels and anything else that you’ve been touching” load. It just sucks to have to do laundry around the clock.

Mr. Right woke up Monday morning at 1 AM, feeling quite nauseous. The sickness swelled into nausea and some serious bathroom time by 2 AM. Add a bowl for the chance that the two symptoms would meet, court and quickly marry, which they did from 2:30 AM on. This was not a wedding I wanted in my house.

Now if there is one condition that Mr. Right despises the most, it’s being nauseous. He hates the idea of retching and, of course, the process of doing it. Throw in the fact that he usually cannot force himself to do so when he is really in need of it, and you can see why he has a serious aversion to this complaint. I kid you not, given the choice of sticking a sharp needle in his eye or being nauseous for a day, he would take the needle every time.

He stayed home on Monday, of course, which is what the family who were sick with this virus should have done rather than going to church, thereby sharing it with everyone else. (Oh yes, we were not the only recipients of this wonderful gift. “Merry Christmas. Here have a virus. There’s plenty to go around.” They shared with many. I understand that this is the season of giving, but come on, you can keep some things to yourself!)

Can you tell that I am a little perturbed at these virus-passing people?

Lesson to be learned today: When you are sick, STAY HOME!!!

Mind you, Mr. Right just started a new job. He wass not even three weeks into it. He not only had a death-like virus coursing through his body, but now he had job insecurities/worries bouncing through his brain as well. He was not in the best of spirits.

I did call his new boss to tell him what the situation was. I got his voicemail, so I had to leave a message.

Did I tell you that we have a very sensitive phone? It can pick up sounds from another room. I later heard from Mr. Right about the retching sounds that were recorded on the voicemail. Who’d of thunk… At least his boss knew that Mr. Right wasn’t playing hooky.

He wasn’t any better by the time I got home from work. The kids were already worrying about their dad, but of course I didn’t want them to go near their father. It was one of those “Look, but don’t touch - now go wash your hands” moments.

I started to worry about him by Monday night when I suggested calling the nurse line and he handed me the phone. After talking to the nurse, conveying every symptom, giving her all information about Mr. Right, from birth date to belt size, from pain rating to highest game score ever made on Age of Mythology, she recommended that he go to the emergency room.

Mind you, this was now 11:30 PM. Where do you find a sitter at that time of night? Mr. Right evidently still had a few working cells because he threw out John’s name. Of course! John, our wonderful friend, came rushing over. (John has a new jewel in his crown! Thank you. Thank you. Thank you!) He didn’t even complain about being awakened his beauty sleep. What a guy!

We went to the ER and found out that Mr. Right was not, contrary to his belief, dying. He was just the lucky winner of the PYGO (Puke Your Guts Out) lottery. Now if only I could have that happen with the Kansas Lottery… I would, of course, have to actually buy a lottery ticket for that to happen, but seeing how we never purchased a ticket for the PYGO lottery, my chance could be good.

Anyway, after pumping him full of an IV, drugs and more drugs, Mr. Right came home. It’s amazing what modern science can do for a man in pain. He slept throughout the rest of the night and awoke at 10 AM on Tuesday, cautiously taking in a bit of sustenance, something he hadn’t been able to do since Sunday night. Everything was good so far. He fell back asleep. He slept most of the day, awakening to test the eating process very slowly.

Me? My tasks had just begun. Job? Wash everything in sight. Additional chore? Wash everything not washed in the first job. You would think that my house would be clean, but you would be wrong. There is only so much I can do to in a day, even with the kids at school. Besides, it would just get the lived-in look as soon as they came home…

So once again, my day off from work was not for me and not really a day off. Ahhh… the joys of being married and being a mom. I love feeling needed.

Mr. Right is 85% back to being his whole self. The other 15% is hanging around waiting to see if it wants to inhabit his body again.

Now, I’m just praying that I don’t find out that the newly married symptoms came from a shotgun wedding and were already producing little baby viruses just for the rest of the family. That would just suck all over again…

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