Soooo this week I got flu, or a cold. I’m never quite sure where one crosses the line into the other and you can claim expenses for your pity party. The long and short of it, I had to stay in bed all week, didn’t get any sleep, and sweat more than an Aussie coke mule at Bogota airport. Now, I remember fondly, a time when these things would have made a rather good week, but hey I’m not at Uni anymore, and nowhere is there a worse place in life to have flu than being a mum. I am already pretty resentful that my body has decided to throw in the towel at this late stage. Really, now? It’s almost spring, you want to do this now? What about all those bloody expensive zinc and magnesium supplements I have been taking. Seriously? The amount of that stuff I must have accumulated in my body, you could hammer me flat and get a tin roof and a decent set of mag alloy wheels to boot. Not to mention the organic apples I bought last week. If I had known you were going to pull this crap on me immune system, I would have saved that $6.75 and blown it on pringles and mars bars.
“Hey Mum, I have something for you”
The trouble is, I knew my card was marked because I have… duh duh duhhhh….children! Nothing is guaranteed to carry, breed, and mutate a virus more successfully than a kid under ten. They are nothing more than little germ incubators with legs. This particular bug was supplied to me by middle child, (it’s always the middle child) Who having contracted said virus, took to his bed for three days. He made himself a nice little pillow fort with his Lego books and football magazines, and spent the time chain munching mandarins and engaging in a bed ridden Minecraft marathon, until he could no longer blink without assistance. All in all, I would say it wasn’t an altogether terrible experience. I mean obviously inconvenient, having all your meals brought to you in bed, hanging about in your PJ’s, summoning the odd peasant to bring you an ice pack, tiresome, but not life threatening.
“You gave my kid the flu, I’m coming to kill you”
I know where his particular cold/flu virus came from. I know with a Liam Neeson “I am going to hunt you down like a dog and kill you” precision of knowing, because I saw the little cherub who supplied it.There it was sitting next to my child at an after-school activity, hacking its lungs up like a coal mining walrus. I remember thinking to myself, that child is going to give whatever it has to EVERYONE here, and as I watched the snot moustache growing on its upper lip, I felt the need to stand up and scream. “Whose is this infested child ??? Why is it here running a fever of 107??? Please explain!!” because I do tend to get a little bit ‘Pauline’ about this. Maybe it is because I have worked on respiratory wards, maybe because I have sick friends whose immune systems would not thank me for passing on a little dose of the winter nasties, or maybe just I do not want to spend the next seven weeks playing pass the parcel with the snot package between family members.
No mason jar can save you now
When I get the flu there are no bed cubbies, no magazines, and no trays with eggs and soldiers. There is one marine, me. It is inevitable I am going down like Mcgregor. I am not even bothering to start with a box of tissues, I am upgrading straight to toilet rolls, and a spittoon. What starts the week as a ginger, turmeric, lemon thingy and some infusing oils rapidly degenerates by Friday to Night Nurse, Day Nurse, Strepsils and Nurse with an semi-automatic weapon. I am buying so much pseudoephedrine the lady behind the counter wants my driving license, and looks at me like I am a meth cook. My children become opportunistic hyenas, sensing my weakening resolve to parent, they move in for the kill. We are in a terrorist situation. They make unreasonable requests that in my current medicated state I am more prone to say yes to. A movie at 5.00am? er sure… Whats that, You want a lollipop for breakfast?… sounds reasonable. The ipad, at midnight?? Whatever you want, just leave me to die..
Bog off flu. I’m Not playing anymore
On the upside, I am not alone in my sick bed. The dog wants to keep me company, him and his perpetual moaning, slightly leaky sutures, and his gigantic plastic funnel and the cat is rather taken with the 24/7 electric blanket. Also at night there is a very vocal choir of quacking frogs that have set up under my window, just in case I get lonely during my midnight coughing vigils, and of course if all else fails I can check in with all my Facebook friends who are all now, simultaneously on holiday. I hate you all. Last night I was encouraged to see the first mosquito of spring come whining into the bedroom, so flu season might be on its way out. Even he circled me with some trepidation before flying off to sit on the lamp as if to say “pfft not sucking your blood tonight, might catch something”