The last two weeks have pretty crappy around here — we’ve been sick yet again. This time though, it was namely Lucas and I. Raspberry had a fever one night and the odd cough for a short bit, but has been more or less all right.
I, on the other hand, experienced my fourth illness in two months. Four times, really? What the hell, body?! I had an awful hacking cough (of which I still have remnants) and I think for several days, I actually had the flu. The fatigue, the debilitating achiness, the drippy nose, the cough (which gave me very sore abdominals and kept both Lucas and I awake) were anything but appreciated. I spent more time than I would’ve liked sleeping, while attempting to take care of a kid who wanted nothing more than to play with me. “I’m sick and I don’t feel like [doing X, Y or Z] right now,” I would tell her. She obviously understood and thought it was relevant to announce my illness to a room of preschoolers and a handful of adults at the library’s storytime. Thankfully (and I thought this would never happen), the flu went away and despite the fact that I’m still coughing (though not as much), I’m practically all better now.
A few days after I recovered from the flu, it was then Lucas’ turn to get sick. This is a guy who gets sick very rarely, so it’s strange and rather disconcerting that he’s been sick twice in a matter of two months. I’m certain he got it from me, as he was feeling as shitty as I was, so much so that he had to call in sick to work one day last week. Whatever bug it was hit the poor guy pretty hard. So we’ve spent the last two weeks mostly feeling terrible, sipping copious amounts of tea and developing a nasty tea habit. As much as I’d like to believe otherwise, I’m loath to think that this will be our last bout of sickness for a while. Le sigh.