I Got Antibiotics for Christmas.
So I kind of missed Christmas.
I came home from substitute teaching on Thursday with a fever. As I had for the prior three days, I immediately took a nap.
Days followed – and I felt worse. And worse, and worse. The fever never disappeared, except for a few minutes – hours? – at a time. On the night before Christmas Eve, I was still somewhat upright. But by Christmas Eve, I was bedridden.
By Christmas morning, the fever was gone – or so I thought. I watched the kids open their presents, feeling bad but not awful. I honestly believe God gave me a reprieve so that I could enjoy the moment.
I had a very merry Christmas morning.
Except the fever came back again.
Over the course of the holiday, Bill did everything. The man is a complete saint.
The dog never left my side. Unfortunately, that also meant she vomited on my bed, straight through two comforters that then required washing – so Bill just added that to his list of things to do.
I wasn’t any help. I didn’t go anywhere, or do anything. I still got to see family, and when the kids were home, I was well enough to enjoy their presence.
But I slept a lot.
And by this morning, I needed a doctor.
So, I went to a doctor. He claimed that I may have an upper respiratory infection, since I am not getting better. (I didn’t really make a deal of the fact that I was progressively getting worse.) Although they didn’t come until December 26, I got antibiotics for Christmas.
Hopefully, soon I will be well enough to enjoy the rest of the break with my family. It was a different kind of Christmas, but I got what I wanted most: a relatively happy family.
Oh, and the antibiotics.