Being sick sucks. The past ten days or so has been spent in coughing fits and sleeping. My son and I both wound up SICK – him with pneumonia and me with bronchitis. My little guy is only 3.5 years old, and seeing him with 104+ fever was heartbreaking, especially since I could barely move (or breathe) myself. We spent a solid week on the couch curled up with each other watching How To Train Your Dragon on infinite repeat and living on juice pouches (all he would eat) and fruit cups (all I would eat). Once or twice a day I would drag myself to my computer and check on work, everything important dealt with or delegated. My coughing fits would keep my husband up, and my ribs would hurt so much from coughing fits I could barely lay still. My son slept and slept. I couldn’t remember if I had fed the dogs, and had to come up with a plan to be sure Jack and I each took the antibiotics we needed. And we coughed, and we slept.
I really have no idea how or who ran my house when I was laid out on the couch. I know my poor daughter probably had to fend for her own snacks and meals after school because I felt like I was in a near-coma from low blood oxygen (nifty side effect of having your lungs all mucked up). The antibiotics worked like a charm for Jack, his fever that wouldn’t stay beaten down with Triaminic got its ass handed to it with the prescription. Me, well the meds made my stomach sick and kept me from sleeping at night for some reason. At $20 a pill you’d think the stuff would treat me a bit better.
We feel better now. Being sick SUCKED.
