Lost Week

I’ve frequently referenced my lost months and can recite them pretty accurately — April 2012 when I was pregnant with Edith and September 2014 when I was pregnant with Atticus are the most obvious. I basically spent those months in bed and watching TV when my head wasn’t doubled over a toilet (or at work).

More recently, we had a lost month toward the end of last winter when we all got sick consecutively — not simultaneously, but back-to-back. One of us would be puking or otherwise feel like crap for five days or so. As soon as that person was in the clear for about 12 hours, the next person would start. The winter before that, the kids both had pink eye and passed it to me. It wasn’t exactly all month, but it sure felt like it.

Last week was a lost week, but it could have been much worse. I was exhausted at the beginning of the week, sleeping 11 hours Tuesday night and taking a nap the next afternoon. Paul called off on Wednesday and wasn’t quite back to normal til Friday or Saturday. Atticus had a bad cough most of the week and finally stayed home from school on Friday. Only Edith has been in the clear (although she was sick a few weeks ago, so ...).

Fingers crossed this is the worst of it, but I’m not holding my breath. There’s still a lot of winter to go. 

Spring into Sickness

The last half of March was rough on our family.

Edith threw up on a Friday night, was sick all weekend and finally went back to school on Tuesday. Meanwhile, Atticus vomitted on Sunday night -- just as Edith was finally getting a bit better -- and wasn't out and about again until Friday afternoon. Just when I though we were all in the clear, I got sick that Friday evening and had to cancel our weekend plans. So no visit from my parents, and I had to sell our tickets to "Rent." Not a great week.

I was finally better by the following Tuesday, which made our family down for the count for some 10 days. Paul escaped with mild symptoms but did most of the cleaning. He spent the better part of an evening bleaching and Lysoling pretty much everything the kids and I could have touched, and I did at least 10 and probably closer to 15 loads of laundry from the beginning of our sicknesses through the end. Spring was here in name, but it took a long time to feel like it.

From 2016 to 2017

The holiday season has been punctuated by illness. The worst of it was nearly a week ago, but I'm sneezing even now as I write this on Monday night.

Christmas was great. It was a day spent shuttling between family in Hilliard and Defiance, like usual. Unfortunately, my sister and her family were sick and out of commission that day, but I assumed we would likely see them later in the week. It didn't happen.

On Tuesday night Edith puked. It was a one and done, and she was better in no time. On the other hand, I was throwing up every 45 minutes from 1 to 5 a.m. Wednesday. I hadn't felt so bad since the early days of my pregnancies.

I was nauseous most of the rest of the day and slept it away while Paul and my parents watched the kids. Worst of all, we had to cancel plans to see some friends that evening.

The next day I was 100 percent better, just in time to go back to Columbus. We went to a party Friday night and hosted our own on New Year's Eve. Then on New Year's Day entered the congestion and sneezing. Nothing serious, but way annoying.

The end of the holiday season is always a bit depressing, and this year it feels even worse. I'm already ready for winter to be behind us.

Sick!

Paul went on a hiking trip in Pennsylvania with some friends this past weekend, so the kids and I spent a lovely three days with family in Northwest Ohio. We had a great time ... until we were about 30 minutes outside of Columbus on the drive home on Sunday night.

Atticus puked, all over himself, all of his clothes and his seat. I pulled over, but it was dark and I was alone and there was little I could do. We trudged home.

He was sick a few more times and then went to bed around 11 p.m. But then at 3 a.m. Edith woke up -- and puked all over her bed. She, too, was sick a few times before nodding off in a "nest" we made for her to sleep on in the bathroom. Paul took care of that while I was up doing laundry.

Neither kid was worse for the wear on Monday. Atticus had a bit of a cough, and Edith was mostly back to normal. I was exhausted. And so passes another parenting first: two kids sick at the same time.

Our Lost Week of Sickness

Before Edith was born, I was sick for all of April due to morning sickness. When I was pregnant with Atticus, it was the entire month of September. I consider these my "lost months," when all I did was watch TV and try not to puke.

Last week reminded me a lot of those times. As a family, we had a lost week.

It started on Tuesday. I was making lunch when Edith came over to me in the kitchen and told me her belly hurt. About 15 seconds later she hurled all over the cabinet, the floor, her clothes and my feet. Thus started four hours of misery for poor Edith. She puked about every 20 minutes and then took a two hour nap. When she awoke, she was her same old self, only hungrier.

I texted Paul to warn him what he was about to return home to. He replied that he, too, wasn't feeling well and was about to come home early.  Thus started TWO days of misery for poor Paul. He stayed home from work for a day, a rarity for him.

By Thursday, it was my turn. Luckily, I just felt lousy but wasn't actually physically sick. (The telltale sign that I'm not well -- even peanut butter didn't sound good.) I was a bit under the weather for a good day or two, but nothing like Edith or Paul.

And Atticus? He's been his same cheery self. No harm, no foul for that lucky, lucky boy.

Back from the Dead

It's never fun to be sick. That's especially true if your bathroom is too small and your subway commute too long.

But after a couple of days off of work and even more evenings spent in bed, I'm basically up and at 'em again. Unfortunately, I got behind on my blog posts, resulting in last week's unexpected break. Even as I started to feel better, the last thing I wanted to do was get on the computer. (That also accounts for the lack of a long overdue email to my sister.)

Luckily this was my first bout with anything halfway serious in New York -- really, the first time in a long, long time. I'm not eager for a repeat.

Sick & the City

If one could carryover excess sleep like rollover minutes, I'd be good for at least another week.

I've been sick since last Monday evening, and my coughing-sneezing-fever-chills-toothache-earache-body aches have put me under the covers for up to 12 hours a day. I even stayed home from work last Tuesday, which is pretty rare for me.

I felt slightly better Wednesday morning and wearily dragged myself to work. My cold, however, left me exhausted, and the freezing air instigated coughing fits. Each night after work I could barely change into my pajamas before I was out for the night. One evening I went to bed at 7, got up at 8:30 to eat supper and then went to sleep for good an hour later.

I got home from work Friday shortly after 7 p.m. and won't have been outside again until I leave for work this morning. I finally went an entire 24 hours on Sunday without taking any medicine, and I wasn't about to take any chances by making a foolhardy trip to the grocery store. I don't need a loaf of bread that badly.

At first glance, being sick in New York is the same as being sick anywhere else. And why wouldn't it be? Illness knows no boundaries, and the blankets that ward of the chills are just as comfy in Columbus as they are in Brooklyn.

But it doesn't take long -- just a single subway ride in the winter -- to realize what makes sickness in New York different. It's more public.The hacking coughs. The sniffling noses. The sneezes and looks of death. I've given and received them all in a single evening commute.

Luckily this bout with the cold wasn't accompanied by nausea. In Ohio, in an emergency -- if you really, really had to -- you could always pull off and be sick on the side of the road. It wasn't ideal, of course, but it was an option. No one would have to know.

In New York, though, you better be sure you can handle the jostling crowds of the subway before you even think about getting on. Not only are there no restrooms on the trains, but you'll also have a hard time finding any in the subway stations themselves.

Even if the wave of nausea passes, you still aren't off the hook. Every grimace of pain is on full display to all of your fellow commuters. No privacy here -- and maybe not even a seat. Unless you have a crutch or are visibly pregnant, you're on your own.

Honestly, I don't even like dabbing my nose with a tissue on the subway, although that's usually inevitable in the winter. I can practically feel the people around me willing some antibacterial gel onto their hands, no matter how discreet I try to be.

I've long heard that children pick up all sorts of illnesses in daycare and preschool. The New York City subway is no different.

Sour ending to a lovely weekend

If love is carrying someone's barf bag to the nearest airport trash receptacle, then Paul must adore me.

I had a lovely long visit home this past weekend, except for the final four hours. I was fine at Joe's wedding. Perfect at Katie's bridal shower. It wasn't until I was somewhere in the air between Columbus and Detroit that I started to feel queasy.

Without going into too many details, I was sick the entire plane ride from Detroit to New York. Luckily, Paul and I had the entire last row of the plane to ourselves. The flight attendant told us at the end of the trip that the pilot even delayed take-off for a bit to consult with air traffic control about whether I should get off the plane. Great.

Needless to say, I stayed home from work the next day. I was fine again and eating normally by the evening. More about the pleasant aspects of my trip (along with pictures!) later.