I’m finally recovering from my first major illness of the season. Being sick is one of the worst things about becoming a dad that I never expected. I should have, I’ve always known at the back of my head that kids were germ factories, but somehow I imagined that that would simply lead to a sick kid. Sadly, my stunted imagination has shown its optimistic limitations and I’ve spent the last few winters ill. In some cases deeply so.
Last winter it was a brutal stomach flu. Portmandia Jr. and I passed it back and forth like the worst game of tag imaginable (though once again, my imagination may be inadequate to encompass all possible horrors). I lost weight. The ladies at my favorite lunch cart noticed how gaunt I had become when I finally managed to resume eating again. That was possibly the finest Korean barbecue that I’ve ever eaten.
All of this getting sick has led to some interesting revelations in my marriage: I am horrific when I vomit and my wife can barely stand me when I am sick. I lived alone for nearly a decade before relocating to Little Bay Root and promptly breeding. During all those years, I nursed myself through a number of illnesses and rarely resorted to outside assistance. Usually, this meant that I spent my sick days lounging on the couch, watching movies and playing video games.
Sadly, Mrs. Portmandia and I have fairly different reactions to getting sick. Where I tend to do no more than absolutely necessary and conserve my energy, she prefers to do as much as possible with whatever energy she has. This is one of the few places where our approaches are so diametrically opposed and the resulting friction takes us by surprise nearly every time I get sick.
As for the vomiting, well, the less that is said the better. Suffice to say that I have a tendency to sound like I am dying.
This most recent illness was simply of the snotty nose and weak body variety. My son spent two weeks with varying levels of green snot and that general malaise that comes from being tired. Being four, he got tired of the enforced laziness pretty quickly and just got cranky and sensitive. Always a good time.
Me, I got to spend a solid weekend cooped up with Mr. Snot Box while the wife was at work. It wasn’t surprising or miraculous when I got snotty and started missing work. I only managed to work two days last week, and even that was a stretch of my resources. I did spend my couch time reading though, so I’ll have a book review or two later this week. That’s a decent perk.
So, the cloud of pestilence is clearing, if slowly. I’m still a bit sick around the edges, and Mrs. Portmandia has reported the green snot. This last weekend consisted of recovery and a truly epic quantity of laundry as I try to purge the apartment of evil evil germs. With no corpses on the doorstep, I consider it a victory.