In Sickness

Since it was our anniversary this past weekend and everyone around us is sick, I put two and two together and started reminiscing about sick days in our relationship. And I'm not talking about just being lovesick.

I remember a time when we were courting, or dating, or seeing each other, or going out or whatever the term is these days, when we had planned to go out to eat and head down to the Science Museum on a date. I had even bought a new shirt that morning. Chet came over, all ready to go, and I was sitting on the couch looking pretty green. Without hesitation, he offered to go to the gas station and pick me up some chicken noodle soup, crackers and 7-up. (I knew from then on that he was a keeper. Well, I knew earlier but this really set it in stone.) He came back with the items in hand and cooked me up the soup. I took about three bites and ran to the bathroom and hurled. Needless to say, we didn't go on our date. But he sat with me and kept me entertained while I curled up on the couch. I must have fallen asleep because when I woke up at midnight, he was gone but he left me a little note telling me to feel better.

On Christmas Day in the year before we got married, I had a raging ear infection. I was hearing one pitch in one ear and about a half step higher pitch in my other ear. I attempted to go to work, but after I realized I couldn't walk in a straight line, I decided I better seek medical attention. Chet came and picked me up and brought me to the ER. They diagnosed me with a raging ear infection (just as I suspected) and gave me a Percocet and some antibiotics. I do not remember the drive home. I do not remember walking into the house. I do remember waking up the next morning in my work clothes and my contacts stuck to my eyeballs. I will remember never to take Percocet again.

When I was on bedrest while pregnant with Tucker, Chet had no choice but to cook dinner. We had ingredients for grilled cheese and tomato soup, which I thought would be an easy meal for him to cook up. Wrong. As I lay helpless on the couch, Chet struggled to do three things at once. The tomato soup boiled over down into the gas burners and the grilled cheese burned. I think we ended up ordering pizza. Luckily, I was removed from bedrest a short while later and I took over the cooking.

We had been married a few years when a nasty flu bug hit. Chet thought he had been spared after the kids and I spent days on the couch hanging over barf buckets. A few nights later, he sprung out of bed at 2am and didn't even make it to the bathroom. Projectile vomit. Everywhere. I spent the next hour cleaning with a bucket of Lysol and rags.

The kids seem to be feeling better today as they stole ten Swedish Fish off the top of the microwave and logged onto Starfall.com without my knowledge. They took advantage of the fact that I was busy pouring over my craft projects for the upcoming Saturday Market and not paying attention to what they were up to. They've apologized profusely. And Avery just told me that I stink and that I need to go take a shower. I think she's hinting that she wants to play the computer again while I shower.

And Tucker is refusing to do his simple chores today, such as clearing his plate and picking up his toys because, "I sick, Mom." Although he doesn't seem to have a problem running around the backyard, tackling Avery or stealing Swedish Fish.