He's a Sick Man

Forgive my absence this week. I have a sick husband. I came home from Macon Sunday to find him asleep, dressed in t-shirt, shorts and dress socks. What the heck? Turns out he dressed for church then collapsed on the bathroom floor with some kind of flu. When he came to later he changed but was too weak to reach his feet. Poor baby.

Honestly, he was doing better by Monday. Let me back up ... he worked hard around the house while I was gone, repairing and cleaning. I was particularly glad to find he'd repaired the leak under the kitchen sink, as well as the leaking disposal. The water coming from the leaky pipe was brown and sludgy. Could have made us all sick.

So he was doing better by Monday, and he went to work on Tuesday. Came home at lunch and went to bed. By Thursday he was expelling yellow and green gunk, so I got him to the doctor's (they're setting up a room just for us, seeing as we practically live there anymore). She prescribed antibiotics and some serious drugs to combat this, told him he should be better the next morning.

Yes, he's a little better. Yes, he's getting rid of the junk in his chest. But no, he's no where near good. Poor thing is barely moving. I looked up all his symptoms online and it sounds like bronchitis or pneumonia. We think maybe working under that sink for so long with the nasty bacteria didn't help any. And the doc gave him all the right drugs, asked him to do all the right things. So we'll see.

I'm just tired. For Father's Day the kids and I are giving Chris the gift of a clean house. They worked all morning, then my mom popped in with bread pudding for her sick son-in-law and a birthday gift for Nathaniel. Then she took all three children to the movies (Shrek 3). So my helpers are gone, I'm tired, and now ... I'm WHINING, of all things! What am I thinking?!? No whining! Sorry y'all.

Off to take a nap before I vacuum. Actually, I'm glad I got stuck with the vacuuming. The kids aren't really thorough. They're very good with everything else - I think they just hate vacuuming.

Until I write again ...

Flea