I have a Cold. That most dreaded, feared illness for COPD'ers. I don't know how I got it. We live in a sterile bubble. No one comes in. I go out as little as possible. We wash hands frequently.
Yes, we do have a visitor. My husband's son. He looks perfectly healthy. Even so, did he somehow pick up this virus on the plane and transmit it to me? Did I pick it up at the library, grocery store, pharmacy?
We can drive ourselves crazy trying to figure out where this nasty, but potentially lethal virus came from. And, really, what does it matter? We try so hard to stay healthy - but life happens. So does illness.
Actually, I should not be surprised at all. I have let myself become run down, caring for hubby and worrying about him. Worrying about Son's visit. Will he excessively tire Hubby? Bring in a virus? (he has in the past). When did I become sooo paranoid? Sooo stressed out?? And now, it seems, I have neglected myself. My Cold is the proof.
Now what? I sleep on the sofa, wash hands a thousand times more often and let Son prepare meals for the two of them.
Is it inevitable that I be the one to make my husband sick? Will I be the one to bring home his "final cold" when the time comes? Is this the time? Does it have to be me?
I wish I could take off, leave, escape - somewhere until I'm better; until I'm not contagious - but this is really a Catch 22 situation. Who would then look after Hubby?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment