GI vs. URI

Kt got a head cold around Saturday morning. She started to look pale and tipsy and talk funny (like there was a bugle jammed up her nose.) That was before she started taking Day-quil and NyQuil. Then she started acting fuzzy. I did my best care-taker impression and set her up on the couch to veg out. Since then, the mucus has settled into her chest, and she begins every morning with a chorus of startled hacking.

Saturday night, I was full of tenderness and concern. I tried to sleep close to her and spoon her to health with my body heat. I ran around house and home all weekend unafraid of disease, only concerned with the comfort of my girl.

But starting Monday at 1am, i endured an 18-hour stomach Blitzkrieg that left me psychologically scarred and 3 pounds lighter. It was one of those violent illnesses that inform the emotional climax (if not the plot) of every Lifetime: television-for-women-who-hate-themselves movie, where a stoic but-soon-to-be-dead woman vows to NEVER again undergo another round of chemotherapy. My skin hurt. My hair was sweating. My stomach lining was panting and peeling...

There is still practically nothing in the refrigerator that I am willing to eat. I threw away a pound of sliced turkey, a 1/2 gallon or skim milk, a bottle of salad dressing, and 2 heads of lettuce b/c they all "seemed weird" to me.

Katy slept through the worst part of my Tummy Tsunami, but when her "back to work" morning routine included a coughing diddy that would have made the Marlboro Man weep, I clutched my abdomen and realized how likely we were to simply trade viruses before the weekend arrived.

We've got a big weekend planned.
I know I have zero control over this, but I'd like to publicly state that
I'm willing to take the hit here...
If there's anyway for my GI bug to pass her by,
I'll gladly hack up a lung every morning for the next several weeks.
That's the story of- That's the glory of love.