Meaningful Monday 6

I hate being sick. 

Hate it.

I got sick this weekend and it was no fun. 

Story Time.

Friday was well spent with the wife and the child. Enjoying each others company with laughter, bed times, and chocolate ice cream (which lately seems to be a new routine). Saturday morning was band practice and I was in an especially good mood. We've been working on some fun tracks and gearing up for our first show. 

Saturday afternoon I picked my eldest brother up (the one with holes in his tumtum), and he was going to hang out with us until the evening when we were all going to head over to our middle-brother's house for his wife's birthday. 

Then came 4pm. Like a SCUD missile with laser guided precision some crazy sickness hovering 10m above me exploded and took me out. While Isabella and I were walking through Target and picking up a gift I could feel the infestation crawling through me and making me weaker second by second. 

I wasn't about to bail on my sister-in-law's birthday so I just thought I'd tough it out. Dumb idea.

By the time we left I was shivering as my wife was saying, "Wow, it sure was hot in there." Now if there is one clear indication that I'm actually sick is when I am shivering and my wife is warm. I'm the kind of guy where you could easily cook an egg on me I'm so warm. I love cold environments and my wife HATES cuddling up to me if she is anything but freezing her ass off. 

Down for the count.

So we get home, take my temperature, and surprise surprise, it's 101.5. I'm still shivering. I sleep like crap, and I'm out all Sunday. 

Which makes me feel really bad inside. 

With Isabella being a stay at home mom, I know that on the weekends I can give her a little break from the normal. I love being with my little girl on weekends and having lots of daddy - daughter time while mom can go out and do whatever she wants to. 

However, when I'm laid up in bed with a fever, I can't do that. I don't want to be all up in Niamonster's business because the last thing we need is a sick baby. And I can't give Isabella the much needed break she deserves from working so hard during the week. 

I get yelled at a lot.

Because of this, I say "I'm sorry" a lot when I'm really sick. Partly because I'm delirious, but mostly because I really am. Taking care of one child is bad enough, but when I'm sick I'm a total wuss. Isabella gets REALLY mad at me every time I say I'm sorry. "Shut Up!"

Stupid Sickness.