Illness is the doctor to whom we pay most heed; to kindness, to knowledge, we make promise only; pain we obey.
Today’s gratitude? Just to be alive, I guess.
Jeez, I’m tired.
See, that bug that infected Sausage’s poor wee tummy made its way through the entire family this week.
It hit me on Wednesday, causing projectile … and explosive … you get the idea. The key point is that both ends were going nuclear.
On Thursday, just as I was beginning to mend and considering nibbling on a Saltine, it hit Loving Husband, and I found myself looking after a cheerily no-longer-sick toddler when I should have been taking teeny, tiny sips of ginger tea.
So basically, I fell off the NaBloPoMo wagon and into a giant pile of bodily fluids, much of which was my own.
Having not written on Tuesday because I was just so tired (’twas a hint of things to come, but I didn’t catch wise until my head was in a toilet), I was then one day horribly sick, two days still kinda sick, and back on solid food for reals just yesterday. And writing again, such as it is, today. Could have been a lot worse, I guess.
I am truly grateful to have survived it, though there were moments when I wished for a quick end to the misery. And I’m grateful that Loving Husband made a super-quick recovery, though I also rather envy him that. Now I can get back to writing! Huzzah!
And now I’m wondering if I should try to make up those five days of lost posts. Hmm. Food for thought, yes?