I'm not dead.
If you come here looking for posts, inspiring messages or a little piece of wit that make your life seem a little lighter, you may have noticed things have been a little, well, scarce. But, I assure you that it's just life and not one of life's tragedies that has made my 24-hour gifts feel like they've been shrunken like a souvenir t-shirt.
Last weekend my husband came down with a bug (of course, on a weekend when no clinic is open, obviously. Why not, right?)
Side note: we have a strain of influenza running around our town like an arsonist with a new box of matches. This sucker does not care if you've been vaccinated, if you're cute, if you're already tired and stressed - it's just striking whatever victim it can find. I know this because I work in a school. A school that has had a ginormous amount of absent children and teachers. All due to this nasty strain.
Anyway husband: fever, chills, body aches, sore throat.
Me: can you move out for a week?
Admittedly, that may have been a harsh thing to ask but we did move him to our college son's vacant room so he could quarantine himself off from the rest of us until a doctor could be seen.
Now I don't know how it works in your house but in mine, when someone gets sick, good ol' Mom here takes on the role of nurse's aid. Do you do this? Meals get made and then promptly divided so The Ill doesn't feel the need to come do some mealtime mingling. Medications, Gatorade, chargers, changes of clothing - all of this gets brought in though a sacred delivery system of breath-holding, deliver, reverse-at-mach-speed, sanitize, then through-the-closed-door conversation.
And even if your ritual is not as rigid as my ritual you can probably agree when I say: it's exhausting to take this on in addition to your regularly scheduled household and job duties. Like reach the end of the day, hope there's no fire tonight because I'm slipping into a light coma. 'Night ya'll.
And then morning brings another round of it until you're little Sickie becomes well enough to join the land of the living again.
Which, in our case was Tuesday after he had been on meds for 24 hours. We cleaned and aired out the room just a few hours before our college son arrived home for Thanksgiving break. And we thought all was going to be better.
Unfortunately, we were rudely awakened to a middle-of-the-night showing of What Happens When Allergies Develop starring: my husband. It started with a, well, highly visible swelling of his lower lip.
Picture the Bubba Gump Shrimp guy from Forest Gump.
So, off to the ER he goes only to find out no matter what they give him, this will continue to swell until enough Benadryl and steroids can sit this reaction down and give it a stern talking to. Which, sadly, was not until the entire portion of his jaw had taken on a very gorilla-like resemblance. Picture Hitch except instead of the eye and ear it was the lip and jawline.
It was, like all things, a learning experience.
He learned sometime in the course of his life he has developed an allergy to Amoxicilin.
He also learned when the ER doc offers you a shot to replace having to take oral medication the proper response is, "HELL FREAKING NO, I'll take the meds, thank you."
Instead, he said yes and took a needle to the thigh.
Live and learn.
And that, Friends, is why this place has been as vacant as a Kmart parking lot. Because life handed us a loop and I had to take time to experience it so I could eventually write about it.
That, apparently, is how this shit-show goes.
Until next time, ya'll. Hope everyone had a splendid Thanksgiving and are now fully in the season of celebration!