Sickly

I remember pre-children how sickness used to be dealt with. The healthy spouse would hover over the sick spouse, gently tending to their needs. Nothing was too much trouble. If the sickness was too much, a day would be taken off work, to be spent wrapped up in bed with a stack of books and snacks at the ready. The healthy spouse would come home early to nurse the sick one, fluttering around with tasty morsels to tempt the sick one's appetite. Medicine was whipped out and tenderly administered and the sick one would spend the evening cosied up in front of the TV, watching their programme of choice.

Now things are a little different.

Sickness tends to run through the family, concentrating itself in the children. Who have NEEDS and are not afraid to make themselves heard. Loudly and without ceasing. The sick adult has to look after the children first and foremost. No time for lying in bed or such like. The children need looking after and that's that.

Sympathy from the other healthy adult is often in very short supply. Either they are coming down with the lurgy or are exhausted from looking after the sick children.

This is my life at the moment. As I collapsed on the couch next to Dida last night I had to laugh. "I feel terrible" I said. "Well go to bed" was his response. And that was the end of that. I got my own medicine, wrapped myself up in bed and went to sleep.