We had plans. BIG plans!
OK, now I'm just being dramatic. The plans were not "big" as in "exciting." They were "big" as in "Hubster's got Friday AND Monday off, making a four-day-weekend, and we were going to catch up with as many people as possible/PLUS the weather was going to be AMAZING!"
Friday -
With weather just barely reaching 80 degrees, we would picnic in the park
Saturday -
Birthday Party for Miss Priss' classmate(the first she's been invited to since starting her new school)
Later that afternoon, Hub's co-worker and his family coming for a visit (our first attempt at making "couple's friends" with his co-workers since starting his new job)
Sunday -
My friend from college and her family comes over for a visit (haven't seen her in a year, very excited!)
Monday -
Go across the water to visit with some of Hub's extended family (that we, unfortunately, don't get to see often enough)
Have an old out-of-town co-worker of Hubs and his family over for dinner that night (folks we are fortunate to have in the area for a couple months before they move on)
It was meant to be a weekend of togetherness, and warm weather fun and Hubby smelling like a grill for four days straight. The kind of weekend that makes you long for the summer that is right around the corner, and lulls you into forgetting that the following week's forecast puts temps right back to just-barely-touching-spring highs.
But as we all know, the best-laid plans always have a way of gloriously falling apart.
Friday -
Priss awoke with a fever. Crap! She'd had watery eyes and a bit of a runny nose for two days prior, but I was hoping beyond hope that it would magically clear up. Now I was hoping beyond hope that it would be a One-Day-Thing and she could still make that party on Saturday. In the meantime, letting the Germ Infested One race around a playground amongst healthy children was definitely out. So was going to school. Called up the preschool and explained her absence.
Meanwhile, while I was looking at the little TV in the kitchen, I realized that the word "Downtown Tunnel" at the bottom of the screen was missing a few letters as I focused on the top of the screen. I informed Hubster that I had lost some peripheral vision in my left eye. And as the minutes passed, it continued to get worse. Hubs, being the rational, scientific thinker that he is, periodically tested me by having me cover each eye and moving his hand about. At the worst of it, his entire hand was lost to a bizarre patch of sparkly fuzziness in the left side of my peripheral vision, in my left eye only. We were getting scared. And when we get worried about medical issues, we call Dad the Chiropractor.
"Should we try to go to an ophthalmologist? Or just wait it out?"
"Go to the ER. You don't want to mess with that stuff."
But in the few minutes after Hubs hung up with Dad, the sparkly fuzziness calmed and cleared and, rather rapidly, my peripheral vision was restored. Which was when the headache started to set in.
"Do we still go," we wondered?
Well, when I have a medical mystery, I call my Physician's Assistant friend Tanya. "Go to the ER," she texted me back, "just to be sure."
So I did.
And my beautiful, nearly 80 degree day was spent in an uncomfortable chair in an ER waiting room, my only warmth emanating from my iPhone. But, after a CT scan was analyzed by a very cute doctor, we now have verification of something we all already knew - there's absolutely NOTHING inside my head.
The cute doc reasoned that it probably had to do with the headache, migraine-style (although I'd never suffered from those) and referred me to an ophthalmologist, just to be sure.
All was well. And Friday was gone.
Saturday -
Dammit! Priss woke up with a fever again. No party for her!
Oh, and Lil Miss Sunshine puked in her bed.
Wheee! Fun for everyone!
Sunny continued periodically vomiting for the rest of the morning before she, thankfully, held down her lunch.
It was safe to say our new "couple friends" weren't coming anywhere near us.
Sunday -
Priss' fever finally broke the night before, so she was on the mend. And Sunny was having a bit of diarrhea, but otherwise OK. Still, I could not let my college friend and her baby walk into this plagued nightmare of a house, so I instead met them for breakfast. Which was great! We chatted, we laughed, we marveled at how big the baby had gotten.
Then I came home and puked.
Twice.
I texted my friend and told her they should take a bath in boiling water and alcohol and burn all their clothes.
Monday -
Although the vomiting had subsided, my lack of energy and appetite meant that I would be a permanent fixture on the couch for the rest of the day. I caught up on my Tivo, while Hubs and the girls drove over the bridge-tunnel to visit the family.
Then Hubs came home and puked.
Twice.
Nope, our friends were not going to be coming over for dinner.
At this point, the Health Department has put a "Quarantined" sign on our door and people in Haz-mat suits are gingerly testing us for pathogens.
And that was our weekend. No fun. No grilling. Almost no contact with the outside world. Just a weekend of toilet bowls and little trash cans and crackers and laundry and PJs.
But such an amazing weekend shouldn't have to end!
"Mommy, I threw up on the bathroom rug."
