Three months ago my darling Mountain Man requested that I bring the kids up to his work so the whole family could get a flu shot. And I laughed -- guffawed, really -- at the idea of me or the kids injecting that silly vaccine into our bodies. MM may have the immune system of a newborn, but the kids and I are tough cookies.
One month ago I took my precious children for new patient visits at the practice I switched them to after being forgotten and ignored by the pediatrician's office I've used for the past nine years. The new doc poked and prodded and pushed and cajoled. I walked out with two kids who were mumbledy-grumbledy, but damned if they didn't have flu shots.
That left me. And five days ago I fell. Like a damn brick.
Fever, chills, sleep. More fever, more chills, more sleeping. My joints swelled to the point I couldn't bend my body parts and my body erupted in a splotchy rash from chest to toe tip. And through all of it, the ol' mountain goat and his rough-neck kids remained robustly flu-free.
Which spawns these types of conversations:
Me: My mama's convinced I have scarlet fever.
MM: You want me to look it up?
Me: I don't have scarlet fever!
MM: So you want me to look it up?
Me: Yeah, I guess we should.
MM: Says here scarlet fever does come with a rash. It's supposed to feel like sandpaper.
Me: Nope, I don't have it. My skin still feels soft. Not that you'd know since you haven't touched me in days.
MM: Hell no I haven't! And I ain't goin' to!
MM: Yeah, but I'm a healthy asshole.
Moral of the story: Just buck up and get the damn flu shot.
Hope you had a fantastic new year's weekend. I was half dead and rashy. But I don't have scarlet fever (No, mama, I really don't) and my tum-tum never got sick, so it's all good. I'm slowly crawling back to full-speed but am currently operating at about 1/4th speed ... and so it goes.