First, a Public Service Announcement: Get your flu shot. It’s not too late. I didn’t and learned the hard way.
Which leads us to the topic of my post.
You see, I got the evil H1N1 flu virus right before Christmas. And it was bad. Really bad. Ended up in the hospital bad. But before I got organ failure bad. I just thought it was the most horrible flu, ever.
My husband had handled our son during the past few days when the kiddo wasn’t at school, but then came Saturday, and the kid didn’t have school, and the husband did have work. And I stubbornly wouldn’t let him call a friend or family member to help.
It wasn’t one of my smartest decisions. An hour or so after the husband left for work, I realized my mistake. I was curled in the fetal position, coughing so badly I thought something inside me might just come loose. I was so sick I was literally crawling to the bathroom, attempting my business, lying on the floor, trying to find some energy to crawl
back to the bedroom.
Folks, it was not pretty.
At one point, my 7-year-old son came down to ask if he could watch TV, which we usually don’t let him do on the weekends much. I muttered, “Sure.” He must’ve realized my weakness because he came back soon after, asking what he could have to eat and drink. I said, “Anything. I don’t care.”
Because I really didn’t. I was trying to figure out how to go on living with every part of my body aching like it’d been hit by a train and oh yes, that sweet fever of 103 — and that number was after taking ibuprofen.
At another point in the fog of the day, he came downstairs and said these exact words: “Mom, do you want to know why I’m not wearing any pants?” To which I replied, “No,” and then promptly curled back into the fetal position.
By the time my husband came home, things were clearly out of hand. The kid had used the stove to fix himself some noodles (thank goodness the house didn’t burn down and he didn’t have any third-degree burns). He’d drank three Dr. Peppers and one Fanta Pineapple soda, and had a very large indoor picnic in front of the TV consisting of Christmas cookies, candy canes, ice cream, tortilla chips, chocolate candy and oh, watery noodles.
He’d also decided to make a “special dish,” for Mom, he said. The ingredients consisted of pretty much everything in the freezer, refrigerator and pantry all dumped into several bowls and topped with different spices from the spice jars, a lot of which landed on the kitchen floor.
There were other things … craft projects gone very wrong, and our dogs being fed everything from raw eggs to chocolate. And the thing about the no-pants question earlier?
That was because he’d spilled a half-gallon of milk on them while trying to give the dogs something else to drink besides water.
The moral of this story, besides get your flu shot, is to ask for help when you need it.
Why is that so hard for us mamas? Or is it just me?