Notes From My Sickbed

When you welcome your first newborn into the world, you are told a great many things. One thing you are not told it that you are also welcoming a dizzying array of bugs, viruses, bacteria and nits into your heretofore sanitised world. 

Children bring them home from nursery, they bring them home from crèche, school and play dates and some of the more virulent kind they seem to culture themselves.
We had one such visitor a few weeks back, a particularly nasty type, it took down our eldest first, a week of raging tempertures, headaches, chills and coughs. 
Our third child was next to succumb but this time we ended up in A&E when her breathing went askew and there was a suspicion of viral pneumonia. Once this was ruled out we were allowed home.
Roll on to last Thursday and myself and the smallest man were the next victims. 
I actually felt like I had been hit by a train. 
And in typical stoic, grown up fashion, I cried, I eulogised about the benefits of euthanasia and I texted my sisters to insist that they say something nice about me at my funeral!

Two days in bed and I thought I was on the mend, to assuage the guilt of not doing anything nice with the children for the bank holiday, I decided to bring them to my mother in laws where the annual carnival was on, something I knew they would enjoy.
And because I clearly have some sort of madness, I insisted that himself stay over and head out with the boys while I did the hour drive back home, with the four children, at ten o clock at night. My reprieve from my illness was short lived and I was horrendously miserable on the way home, thankfully my best helper did the rounds with the animals when we got back, checking crias and locking up the hens and ducks, while I put the little ones to bed. When all was quiet and I was crawling into bed, I realised the flipping emus hadn’t been fed…not a chance I was going back out now, if they didn’t last till morning then it just wasn’t meant to be!
Three more days in bed and a diagnosis of a chest infection on top of all the misery and I’m seriously beginning to think children should come with a health warning, even poor granny Mary fell victim to the bug ridden children, sorry Mum!
There have been upsides to all this;
I got to spend a few days cuddling my fast growing little boy.
Being unable to eat must have resulted in at least a few pounds being lost….right??
All this coughing has to be some sort of a core workout, I keep checking after each bout to see if a six pack is emerging, no sign as of yet but I’m hopeful.
Not a drop of wine passed my lips for over a week, my liver thinks it’s been transplanted in to a toxin free, tee totalers body…there’s a reality check coming for it very soon!
No one cooked for several day, and yet we managed, no panic and no crying babies means getting sick isn’t the utter hell that it used to be. 
We succumbed, we’ve crawled out the other side we’re hopeful that we are rid for good.

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