So, not last week but the week before I had vacation. Went to see TMBG on Tuesday and Wednesday (they were in Grand Rapids Tuesday and Ann Arbor on Wednesday -- we figured why not see BOTH shows, like the world's laziest Dead Heads). Sister-in-law came with. She was ill. In fact, she was really fucking sick. She probably shouldn't have come -- considering the fact that she ran for the bathroom on the Tuesday show to hurl before the concert started.

Anyway, she was sick.

My husband, he of the iron constitution, drank from her bio-hazard water container accidentally. See, we all bought water before the show. You know, because you get dehydrated jumping up and down and screaming, plus it's all hot and sweaty, what with all the other humans crowding around the stage like they do. Anyway, since we all bought the same brand, my husband wisely decided to label hers with a big ol' bio-hazard logo that he drew himself! Evidently, this step wasn't enough -- as he was doofy enough to drink from her water bottle, despite his own clear labeling.

Boys are funny.

Anyway, he drank from her Hantavirus tainted water bottle and now he has Ebola. Which is quite a feat -- a medical mystery, actually. The doctors are baffled. Honestly.

So, my husband came down sick. Now, normally, he's sick for like... three minutes before he feels better again. He's some kind of quick healing freak of nature. Illnesses that take me out for the better part of weeks, bounce off him harmlessly for the merest of moments. He's the freaking Superman of defeating viruses/bacteria. They can't touch him, I swear to god.

Except for the Hantavirus from Cathy's taint-bottle.

Yes, the taint-bottle virus defeat my mighty husband. This, of course, means that I'm infected as well, because I only have to think about a cold or the flu to come down with something. I don't just get sick, I become immobile in a coma of pain and mucus-laden torment for an eternity of weeks -- where I do nothing but blow my nose, hack up phlegm and in-general just feel miserable.

Anyway, as I watch my poor husband -- all wracked with illness -- I worry. Because if it does that to him, what the hell is it going to do to me? I have visions of hospital beds in my future... it's all pretty bleak.

For awhile, there's hope. I go two whole days, hanging around my husband, without getting sick.

Then I wake up on day three with a cough and a sore throat. AW,GOD DAMMIT!

The days pass -- I only get worse. I suffer fevers and chills. I start coughing up suspicious looking orange colored phlegm. My throat feels like I drank an entire bottle of red hot sauce, or, alternately, that I defied physics and anatomy, and somehow managed to take a cheese grater to my throat, before covering it in lye. My nasal cavities feel like they've been stuffed with cotton...

Basically, it's all hot and it hurts and stuff.

Plus, I have to go to work. It's Thanksgiving week, one of the busiest times of the year for us. I'm feverish, congested and fatigued -- and I have to find a way to pretend like I don't feel that way and smile.

Over the years, I've searched for a solution to that very conundrum, that didn't end up with me calling in sick. And I'm here to tell you, there is no way to do this. You either go to work sick, feeling and looking utterly miserable. Or you call in sick. There is no other way.

I made it through the week somehow, thank god. I still feel like shit -- though I feel marginally better. Good new today! My throat isn't on fire anymore and the phlegm I'm coughing up is now a nice clear yellowish color, HUZZAH!

...anyway... this all just reminds me of that one week when I was eight and I had the flu real bad. I had a fever... I remember being delirious with fever and watching Shogun. There's nothing worse for a body when they're sick than being forced to watch a mini-series staring Richard Chamberlain. (If you're too young or don't remember Shogun, look for it on Youtube. Just type in Shogun or Richard Chamberlain -- I'm sure you'll find it. You're a tenacious one, net reader person who is here with reading my journal, okay.)

Where was I? Oh, yeah...

Anyway, the only difference between now and then is: now, I'm delirious and watching "The Prestige", which is more than marginally better than watching Shogun. It has David Bowie, maker of all good things in the universe (SHUT UP! He SO is!)

...I forgot where I was going with this...

I think the Nyquil is finally kicking in.... *passes out*

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