For the past week, I've been noshing my morning granola, mouth hanging wide open. I can't breathe much out of my nose, and my table manners have flown out the window. Can't taste much of anything, either. Can't smell. I couldn't even catch a faint whiff of the Vicks I slathered on the kids. And for good measure, I ache all over, have an off-and-on fever, and I'm coughing too.
So today I finally went to the doctor. Jason, who has been so patient, hauled me in, along with Owen and Helen, who have started their own loud, hacky coughs. Owen has been running a fever as well. Ms. Quinley wrote antibiotics, bless her soul, and Mucinex. Bronchitis for me. The Crud for the kids.
While we were marinating in our own germs in the exam room, Ruth kept Jack and did a load of laundry for us. She kept Jack the rest of the day and made supper for us too. What an awesome mother in law.
I'm hoping that once the medicine gets into my system, I'll feel like doing something more than running for the nearest tissue box.