NotSheep

So after two nights and two days of shivering and shaking in bed, I’m finally feeling - well, not better, but something akin to human, which is a definite improvement.

Thank you to all those who left get-well wishes and vibes in comments and via email. Scratchy didn’t really have a lot of choice in the whole staying-home thing: I couldn’t even make it to the bathroom without clutching at walls and any other available object for support (and the bathroom is only a few steps from the bed). I think we were both getting a bit worried, because it felt very similar to how I was nearly five years ago, right before I was carted off to hospital in an ambulance, spent a week in there and most of the following year in bed. The symptoms were the same, just less severe. But I think I’m on the mend now, which is good. I’ve had enough of shivering and shaking and not being able to swallow, thank you. And we won’t get into the whole coughing-up-a-tonsil business, except to say that yes, I know it probably wasn’t really a tonsil, but it did look like one (and I used to work in a pathology lab, so I do know what a tonsil looks like). Firmer though.

(If that’s TMI, think yourself lucky you’re not reading Joyce’s blog. I won’t link to it, because it’s passworded, but believe me, she beats me hands-down in the ewwww stakes.)

On the bright side, having consumed about 67 calories in about 67 hours has put me back on track with the whole lose-weight-this-year thing. Likely to be very temporary, unfortunately

Thursday emphasised just how much certain family members need routine: George was out of control all day. Between Scratchy unexpectedly being here, me hiding under the pillow, and the lack of any kind of structure to the day, he just didn’t cope well. So on Friday morning, I pulled out the remainder of what I’d planned for the boys this week and handed it to Barney, with instructions to help Scratchy understand and they all sat down and did some work. Barney did quite a bit - French, maths, history, writing in his blog and writing a story. George and Freddy only did a little bit each, but it was enough to give the day a shape, so yesterday involved much less screaming and far fewer tears.

Barney, George and Freddy had swimming lessons this morning, but George didn’t go to trampoline due to a mini-meltdown-moment Jack went out with them this morning, but I think he might be getting sick too, because he came home in a fairly horrid mood and is now asleep beside me. I hope he doesn’t get as sick as I did, because it really wasn’t pleasant - and also because when he’s not feeling well, he tends to be very, very loud about it.

I struggled out of bed for about 40 minutes yesterday to plant the aquarium - I’d ordered the plants on-line at the beginning of the week, not realising (of course) that I was about to collapse in a heap, and they wouldn’t have survived very long if they hadn’t been planted, so I enlisted Barney to entertain Toby, and Scratchy to help me (i.e. I sat and wrapped plants and handed them to him and he did the bits that necessitated standing up). We got it done, but by the end of it, I felt ready to keel over, so I disappeared back under the covers.

And that, dear reader, is also where I’m going now.