Well, it’s finally happened. I’ve finally succumbed to the illness that’s taken my girlfriend, her son, and my daughter.
Chelsea and Traven have been struggling with illness for the past few weeks now. For Traven, it started out as a double ear infection, which coincided with him getting a stomach bug. Chelsea contracted that stomach virus from Traven in the process of taking care of him. Thankfully, her illness cleared up after a couple of weeks, though she’s still having coughing fits. Traven’s lasted until the day before yesterday, and Sunday night he threw up several times around bed time. No one was having fun. Still, today, he seems like he’s up and at ’em again, bouncing around without a care in the world.
Same goes for Kate. She was burning up with a fever last week, and she had unpleasant bathroom incidents every day. I’ve had to throw more than one pair of her panties away as a result. This week, though, she’s doing much better. She’s finally turned the corner on it, and she’s back at school, feeling 100% again. I’m glad to see her finally have her energy and happiness back.
So now it’s my turn. The lethargy. The muscle aches. The low grade fever. It’s all started, and it’s lingering on the cusp of going full bore into something like the flu. Honestly, I’d rather it just hit me. The anticipation is killing me, and at least if I’m totally out of commission, I don’t feel quite as frustrated with my inability to do things. When it’s just a minor issue to my productivity, like it is now, I’m actually more pissed off about it.