Wednesday, June 3, 2015


Last week I got sick. It started on Memorial Day--one of those sore throats and the beginnings of a cold. I woke up on Tuesday morning with the alarm at 5:00 and struggled out of bed and down the stairs to feed the cats who are more than happy to let me know their disdain: What took you so long? I let Piper out and back and then I knew without any doubt that work was not happening on this day. I had a fever; I could barely stand up for any length of time; I headed back to bed.

Wednesday? Not much better but at least no fever.

And so on Thursday I went back to work, my head still swimming with a cold. It didn't take a rocket scientist to realize that I was under the weather. And so, a couple of the girls I work with took one look at me and begged me to Please work from home! And, as that is one of the perks of my job--that I can work from home--I did just that.

I came straight home, pulled my chair into the middle of the living room to escape the glare of the sun on my screen, and settled down for a day of work on the home front.

Friday was a repeat of the same.

Even still I'm congested but other than that? I feel just fine. Darian, however, does not.

I noticed last night that her eyes are watering, she's sniffling quite a lot, and she has this look on her face that says I don't feel so good.

We are leaving on Friday for Florida.

I think that we have this unconscious trigger that says One must get sick when we are planning a trip. Without fail, when we are going to meet family, someone gets sick.

The most memorable time that this happened was when we lived in Wisconsin and flew to my sister Lori's home in Sacramento one summer. We were so excited to join her for a week and had saved and dreamed and planned of all of the escapades we would experience during this fun-filled week in sunny California.

We flew out on a Thursday, and the kids attended Pathfinders the evening before. Just after I got home from dropping them off, one of the leaders called and said, "Darian just threw up all over the gym. You maybe should come pick her up."

Sure enough. She had the stomach flu.

During the entire flight to Sacramento the next day the poor girl sat with her head over a bag, doing her best to retch quietly. It. Was. Awful.

It lasted exactly 24 hours and then she was fine. Oh good, we thought. All is well.

Saturday afternoon Lori and I had just finished cleaning up the kitchen from lunch when I realized I hadn't heard a word from Savana. She was 12 years old at the time, a bundle of energy, and one rarely could be in her presence without hearing her. I don't know if it was the mom thing or what, but suddenly I knew: Oh. No. Savana is sick. I did a quick run through the house and found her on Lori's white couch, the look of death on her face. I grabbed a blanket as I could see that at any second she was going to blow...Aim for the blanket, Savana! Aim for the blanket! She went off like a hose and aimed everywhere...except for the blanket. And the good news? Savana had eaten what appeared to be buckets of strawberries.


So much for the white couch. Lori said it was never the same.

After that? They started dropping like flies. It was one of those stomach bugs that hit with a vengeance and there was no making it to the bathroom. When someone went down for the count, they grabbed a bucket of sorts and found a place on the floor to moan and roll around in misery until the magical 24 hours passed and they felt remarkably better.

Gary, my brother in law at the time, was determined that he would not get it and he went around with antibacterial spray, spraying doorknobs and faucets and everything that he could find to spray. But a couple of days later we found him huddled in his closet, a blanket over his head, moaning in misery.

At one point, both Lori and I were down with it and laying on the living room floor right by the door when suddenly we spied Trevor, Lori's youngest son, running through the house with that telltale look on his face. Lori yelled, "Go outside! Go outside!" And he did--ran straight through the front door to the yard while Lori and I laughed in the midst of the stomach pain that engulfed us. What a good mom and auntie we are! But we were so tired of cleaning up vomit that we just couldn't stomach any more...(No pun intended.)

By the time we flew home on the following Friday, that stomach flu managed to go through our family of five, Lori's family of 4, a friend who came to visit and her two boys, and Lori's niece who came to visit and took it home to her family.

Powerful stuff.

The following Thursday, we managed to head to San Francisco for a day of sightseeing. We had  to find lots of places to sit as several of us were still a bit queasy from the week...but it was fun regardless. And then Friday? We flew back home.

We've spent many weeks in California with Lori and her family; however, without a doubt, that week is the most memorable.

In three days we're heading to Florida to experience some sun and beach and dolphins and laughter and games and great food and family.

Hopefully we leave the flu bug at home.


1 comment:

  1. You look heathy in your pictures! got my fingers crossed.....


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