Today is my fourth straight day with fever. Or, as Cullen calls it, feeber. "My feeber hurts, Momma. My feeber hurts. I sick, too."
Sunday night I was brushing out a Hannah Montana wig (yep. she has one. my stepmother bought it for her last weekend.) when my chest starting hurting and filling with gunk. I felt like I was having an allergic reaction, and thought I was allergic to the synthetic wig. My throat was starting to get scratchy,too.
Early the next morning, I couldn't get warm, no matter how many layers I put on or how many blankets I covered up with. So I checked, and of course had fever. By this time my throat was on fire, and I was coughing. A lot.
That afternoon I went to the doctor. I had to get better immediately, since Hubs was going to be out of town for the next three days (of course! and happy to be gone, I'm sure) and I would be on my own with our three delinquents.
I tried talking her out of it, being the whiney-baby sissy-face that I am, but the nurse insisted on shoving a q-tip up my nose to check for flu. Wow. Was that ever fun.
It came back negative.
They gave me a shot (which the doc said, and I quote, "I'm not going to lie to you. It's gonna hurt.") and a prescription for a z-pack.
I haven't left my bed all week, except to get hot tea and food. Wait. I have showered, too. Just in case you were wondering.
My mil has been here, taking care of all of us. She's done her best to chase the kids out of my room each time they've wandered in.
Miraculously, the boys haven't gotten sick.
Christian, on the other hand, woke up with 102.6 fever and a nasty cough super early this morning. Her test came back negative, too, but her pediatrician is treating her for flu. If it walks like a duck and sounds like a duck...
He says those oh-so-pleasant nasal swabs give a false negative about 30% of the time.
I guess all the breast-feeding is really working this time. Chubs has gotten all my immunities.
But he didn't get a bite of mil's hamburger earlier today when she had the nerve to eat in front of him and not offer him some. Or, you know, the whole thing.
He looked like he was about to whoop her for it, though.