Survivors

As we in my house crawl out from that total jerkface of a virus that stole our health, I wanted to say hello and tell you that I hope you’ve had a better week than we have.
 
Patrick brought home a virus hitchhiker from work and it made its way slowly around the house. Patrick started us out with about eight hours of chills and maybe some fever, maybe not. He went to Costco later that day and was a little tired afterwards. He’s still got a hacking cough that makes me jump every time, but he’s otherwise fine. Then he passed it to me. I like to do things big, you know, so I kept those chills and fever for three straight days. I called into work both Monday and Tuesday, the likes of which has happened only once before and I was in the hospital. I was so sick that Colin had to spend Sunday night – a school night! – at the neighbor’s house because Patrick was working and I couldn’t move. Between Saturday afternoon when I got home from work and Tuesday night, I didn’t leave the house, had taken one shower during a Tylenol high (after which I had to take a nap on the bathroom floor), and made it out of bed twice to eat.
 
I am finally among the standing again, just in time for Colin to get it. He was sent home Tuesday with a note saying “don’t come back until you’re healthy, sicko.” Patrick, husband of the year, worked overnight on Tuesday and then stayed up all day Wednesday watching Pixar movies and making chocolate milk on demand. We thought Colin was better today, but I got a call at 10:30am saying to come get him. We’re going to try again tomorrow. (No fever! Bouncing off the walls! It’s just a little cough! Come on, we have to work!)
 
Because drowning in your own bright green secretions isn’t enough fun for one week, Myra the Fluffy Dog discovered the compost pile. We could not figure out why she was having such massive and copious diarrhea all over our house and were showering her with love and affection to help her feel better. Then we figured out that she’d nudged her little nose into the compost pile and was having herself an All-You-Can-Poop Feast. Now we’re just showering her with water, air freshener, and disgusted sideways glances. Patrick even moved the furniture and rolled up the rug in the living room, currently her Diarrhea Room, so as to ease clean up. That man of mine, I tell you.
 
On the plus side, I am wrapping up my Infectious Disease month! The last week or so have actually been pretty fun, as I’ve settled back into a Medicine mindset and tried to make myself as invaluable as possible. That was going great until I couldn’t come in on account of trying to die from the flu, making it apparent that I was totally replaceable. Oh, well. But I feel like I have learned a lot and accomplished my personal goals for the rotation. While I may not have been the one to diagnose typhoid fever, like my prodigy fellow student, I do feel like I have a better handle on bacteria and the antibiotics that kill them. I’m counting this one as a Win.
 
Speaking of Winning, this post, this post about lung secretions and dog diarrhea and typhoid fever, is my 500th post. I find that completely incomprehensible and when I told Patrick he did some fancy math in his head to try to prove to me that there was no way that was true. But it is! Here we are, friends. 500 posts of sharing and celebrating (with some whining and complaining in there too). Thank you for joining me here, for allowing me this space to connect with you. Group Hug!