This holiday weekend gave me a reality check into what it feels like to have your body fail you. I have never been the needy type. When I get sick, just leave me alone and check my breathing every now and again. I don’t need comfort, an extra blanket, or a cup of tea. Give me six hours of peace and I’ll ask if I need anything; which I won’t. Colds for me last four days, three if I drink orange juice. I work through headaches, and pretend my monthly cramps don’t exist. I am that kind of woman.
My husband, who is normally the one who will catch anything like fly paper in a dust storm, managed to miss the plague that struck his office, but somehow brought it home to his loved ones in his computer bag. Me, the unsuspecting loved one, was doing a day of fasting and under a bit of stress, was ripe for the picking. It started off with a tickle in my throat Friday, but by the end of the day I was coughing every five minutes and hoping-just hoping-I wasn’t coming down with something. By the next day I had a 101 fever.
My 101 fever killed our plans to go visit my parents (my mother has a compromised immune system), but in my mind it wasn’t going to keep me from enjoying a perfectly nice three day weekend. With going to the grandparents out of the question we still needed to get the girls to their separate Saturday morning classes. My husband, quick to come to the rescue, stood next to the bed in his superhero stance and his I can take care of my woman even if she doesn’t want to be taken care of glint in his eyes, announced that they just wouldn’t go.
NO; that was just not an option. Shaking my head in dismay because he just had to know that wasn’t an option, I drag my 101 fevered butt out of bed. I showered trying not to fall down because every movement made my head spin and managed to get my hair combed; which was starting to look like a palm tree hat. While I was in the shower my husband got both girls dressed and ready for their classes.
On the way to gymnastics, I rolled down the windows to make sure my youngest daughter wouldn’t be completely trapped in a car full of disease and prayed that my fever would break. Unfortunately my prayers were answered, accompanied with what felt like a gallon of sweat. I don’t know how I managed to make it through the hour of gymnastics, but I do know that the mothers of the other children must have thought I was one stuck up, self-absorbed, individual (there is a quicker way to say this, but I am a Christian) because as they chatted away, I only spoke when I was spoken to and stayed on my phone texting most of the hour.
By the end of the gymnastic class, my daughter was coughing, and I was feeling defeated. Once home I was beginning to feel chills again and my daughter was warm to the touch. I put my baby girl in bed next to me, and she whined, squirmed and asked for her daddy until she finally fell asleep. In my mind I was thinking where the heck was my superhero husband, and why wasn’t he at home taking care of this sick baby.
Two hours later my husband arrived home with a large pizza and some cold soda. I must admit that I am one of those people who never looses weigh during sickness, first because I am never sick for long, and second because when I am sick I eat everything in sight whether I feel like eating or not.
And, that Saturday afternoon, I felt like eating a lot. I ate half a pie of pizza and slept most of the day. By the next day, my fever was gone, but my body ached all over. I spend the whole day and evening in bed, bored and sick of being sick. Superhero husband took care of the girls, even the sick one, and I was way passed my six hour sick time. At one point Sunday evening I punched the superhero I like to call husband and fussed at him that my body has failed me. His only response was, “Yes, it sucks doesn’t it.”
I promised myself from that day forward I would be more understanding, more nurturing, and more responsive when he got sick. He took care of me for those three days whether I wanted him to or not. He took care of my little sick one and kept my older one entertained and away from me so she would get sick. My superhero and God sent, thank you.