I’m recovering from last week. Wednesday, Asher had strep and a fever of 103.5, so watching him was relatively easy. He just wanted to lay on top of me and be cuddled the whole day. Thursday, Will was recovering from a virus and fever himself. Thankfully, I didn’t feel any worse for wear from my time with the sick kiddos, and I took off early on Thursday to get to my mom and dad’s house to help set up for a baby shower (which I’ll share with you in a separate post).
The shower went great. That night, as I lay down, my throat started to feel swollen. I got dad to check my throat, and he said he saw no signs of strep and that it was probably my allergies. Which makes sense, seeing as the cat was indoors a lot. I went to bed.
I woke up feeling the same but again showing no signs of strep. Since it appeared to just be allergies, I took off to meet Charlotte (who will get her own write-up later this week). I will say though, oh my goodness, she is so precious. After meeting Charlotte and visiting with Esther and Claire, I headed over to see Charlotte’s aunt and uncle, Dana (who the shower was for) and Henry, because I couldn’t wait until they’re parents to see the room they’ve turned into a nursery at their house. It was super cute.
THEN I drove to the mall to hang out with Patti, my mother-in-law, Linda (her sister), and Nana (their mama). They’re always so much fun to spend time with, and we were looking for a mother-of-the-groom dress for my brother-in-law’s wedding. It was about then that it hit me.
I was going down fast.
I’ve never been one to really suffer from low blood sugar. I might get a headache. But overall, I can tough it out. But at first, I wondered if I was starting to understand how bad you’ll feel when all you’ve had to eat until 3pm are a couple clusters of grapes.
I knew better though. It wasn’t low blood sugar. It was a fever.
First of all, I have learned in the last few years exactly how my body feels when I get a fever. It’s terrible, and it’s distinctly different in its awfulness from other bad feelings my body could undergo. Secondly, when we did stop for a late lunch, I was only hungry enough to eat about a third of my food. Lastly, when I got home, in the air conditioning, I was sweating.
102.5 degrees Fahrenheit.
Throat swollen. Hurts to swallow.
And emotions out of control.
Am I the only person over 10 years of age who completely melts down when sick? Not in anger or short temper or irritation. But in tears.
I cry so easily when I have a fever. I almost cried when I had to cancel keeping my nieces over the weekend. (To be fair, I still feel bad about that, fever-free.) I did cry when I read a sweet email and told my mom about it. And I completely lost it when I woke up that night with a spiked fever and woke Tom up to find the thermometer.
Anyway, my brother called in some amoxicillin in case I had strep after all and it just hadn’t made itself obvious in my throat earlier. Tom picked it up.
Sweet, sweet Tom.
I was feelin’ the love. This past weekend, I had a fever, a highly contagious sickness, and no energy. I lay on the couch all day. I didn’t even shower Saturday. (Gross, I know, but I was feeling horrid, y’all.) I watched about five straight hours of an iron chef marathon, a ridiculous amount of Disney channel, and I played so much Angry Birds that Tom had to recharge the iPad…twice.
Tom did the laundry, made the meals, ran out for medicine and newspapers (even when sick, I don’t want to miss the chance to coupon later), and let the dogs in and out about 3,000 times.
He would just walk over and hug me and ask how I was doing throughout the day.
It’s okay to be jealous. I would be if he wasn’t mine. 😉
Anyway, as I said, I was feeling the love. Feeling every bit of the “for better or for worse, in sickness and in health” part of our vows.
Then it happened.
Impetigo. It was back.
I get impetigo on my face a few times a year. Always on my chin.
Usually a highly contagious infection, I’m a carrier for it and never give it to anyone. Anyone but myself, that is, every year since I was two.
It’s itchy and painful and gross. It’s like having poison ivy on my chin. And it lasts anywhere from a few days to a couple of weeks.
I could have kicked myself for falling asleep with my make up on Friday night. I woke up around 2:30 AM and washed if off, put on face lotion, and got back in bed.
The next day, though I didn’t shower, I did wash my face and brush my teeth. It didn’t matter. There was a tiny bump on my chin. I tried to leave it alone.
But come Sunday, it was worse. I refused to touch it with my hands and spread the oil. But I didn’t account for the fact that scratching it with my t-shirt could do the same thing.
It did. I went upstairs to put a sulfer mask on it, cleaned it off, and put some Neosporin on it (I’m out of my normal ointment for it).
Then, a few hours later, Tom came over. He gave me a big hug. He leaned in for a peck.
And he stopped cold. His eyes were frozen on my chin. He looked a little freaked out. And I got a peck on the cheek instead.
Not feelin’ the love, babe. But I did have to laugh.
Later, when I looked in the mirror, I understood. I have the absolute worse case of impetigo that I can remember having in my entire life.
The usual “bad case” of impetigo for me is about a third of what’s going on. I’d put a picture up, but I just don’t think y’all will thank me for that.
My WHOLE chin is covered in three sections of this annoying infection. And it looks like acne when it quits looking like an oozing, crusty infection. It’s so embarrassing to walk around with this thing on your face.
If it’s not gone by Friday, I’ll be hanging out at Catalyst with a bag over my face. And I’ll be wearing the same thing on my head to attend my cousin’s wedding. Awesome.
Please, Lord, let me heal- face, throat, and all-by Friday morning! I’m so over this.