The Flu

First, gentle readers, let me assure you that despite the title of this entry I feel fine. Better than fine, actually, because *I* got the flu vaccine. Unfortunately, the men in my household can't make such a claim. Billy didn't get his because he hates needles and he "never gets the flu" (he always gets the flu.) Charlie had a stomach bug at his three year check up and so had to wait until mid-December for his shot, which ended up being too late. And poor little Jimmy only got the first of two doses and so was not immune, as his (space cadet) mother believed him to be. And this is the setting for our terrible tale.

The Tuesday night before Christmas I was puttering around the house, waiting for Billy to return from a basketball game, when I started to feel awful. Just as Billy got home and asked me to describe how I felt, Jimmy threw up all over both of us and our bed, and I turned to Billy and said "I feel like that." Eight hours later all our sheets were in the laundry and Jimmy and I lay whimpering on the floor outside the bathroom trying to get some sleep.

Billy, of course, got the bug within a couple days and spent Christmas in and out of delirium and pretty much in bed. Only Charlie, who I think had the same virus the week of his birthday, was spared. Finally, the day after Christmas, Billy announced he felt better than he had for a month.

Two days later he spiked a fever and a trip to urgent care confirmed he had the flu. For several days he was miserable, hardly able to talk, and not able to get out of bed. By Friday I had to take Billy to the ER (where he was stuck with dozens of needles, despite the needle phobia that led us into this whole mess) and eventually diagnosed with pneumonia. Meanwhile, Grandma rushed into town to take care of the little boys, who had both spiked fevers by this point. It was an awful scene.

The worst moment happened later that night: I was holding a wailing Jimmy, whose little body was hot as a coal, when I heard Charlie throwing up in his room. I picked up Charlie, puke and all, and looked at both my boys--unable to help them or properly hold them, but unwilling to set either one down. I carried them into our bedroom (where Billy sleep alone throughout his illness) and I tearfully whispered "Billy, both the boys are really sick and I'm scared. I don't know what to do". Billy couldn't even lift his head, and just moaned and fell back asleep. It was a terrifying moment.

Somehow we survived, and Billy even made it to Boston for his interviews. And I was able to check another rite of passage off my parenthood to-do list. But next year our family will be first in line for the flu vaccines.