I had a terrible weekend. First, I was cutting some zip ties. I actually thought: "this is stupid. I'm cutting toward myself, pulling too hard, and basically ignoring every tenant of knife safety." Just as I finished that thought, I cut myself. Not very big cut, but when I dabbed the blood away I could see the bone under the flap. This was 9 pm on July 3rd. If I went to the ER, I'd get seen just about the time the wound had completely healed, and charged about a grand for the privilege. So neosporin and tape it is.
And that friends and enemies is just the start of things.
Friday afternoon I started to fell pretty tired. I tried to take a nap, but the oldest boy kept me awake. My throat started to get sore, and feel swollen. My stomach started to wiggle and flip flop. I skipped dinner and went to bed after putting the kids down at 8. By the middle of the night my throat hurt so badly that every time I swallowed I woke up from the pain. Every time I'd get up to use the restroom the room would spin, and I'd have to hold on to something to keep from passing out. My stomach was an unholy mess of hunger pangs and distress. I ate 1/2 a banana. It was a torment with every swallow. It just plain hurt. By 8 am I honestly thought "If I don't see a doctor I could die from this. I have never felt this terrible." Now I have been sick before, and have thought I should go to the doctor to get this checked out, or to make sure I don't pass this around. This was different, I was bad and getting worse. Went to the doc and found out I had a fever of 102, and a pretty aggressive case of strep. I started on antibiotics, and went back to bed at 10 am. I woke at around 2-3, fever broken, and feeling only just terrible. I had some chicken soup (having eaten only 1/2 a banana and a peach in the last 24 hours). Back to sleep by 9. Sunday, I was just 'under the weather.'
My wife was great, I basically slept from Friday night to Sunday morning. She drove me to the doc and corralled the kids while I got treated. She managed the kids all day Saturday, and took them to the beach, and store by herself so that I could have some time to recover. So when the boys were in the bath, she headed off to take a shower in peace. Well, about 2 minutes after she headed downstairs our youngest pooped in the bath. I get the boys out of the tub, and a nubbin of poo must have clung to his backside and then fell on to the bathmat. He then stepped in said poo and tracked it all over the bathroom while I frantically tried to fish the turds out of the bath, excise all 547 bath toys from the tub, empty and disinfect the tub, and re-fill it so as to have a place to hold them while I cleaned and sanitized the entire bathroom floor (the bathmat went in the garbage..enough is enough). I feel better knowing that for my absence this weekend I could absorb that horror show for my wife. She did yeoman work this weekend, and probably had a more stressful, if less unpleasant weekend.
Today, I have a sore throat, and don't exactly feel my special best, but I am well down the road of back to myself.
Hopefully things will head upwards from there.