I hardly ever get sick. That's one of the perks of having four kids...you develop an immunity to the world's bugs that's akin to Wonderwoman. But at least once a year, and it's usually around Thanksgiving or Christmas, I do get sick. I hate it. And I don't have the patience for it.
I'm a terrible patient and will avoid going to the doctor at all costs. Some kind of bug has been going around town for weeks now and it had the audacity to pay a visit to my house. I can honestly say that today is the day I have felt the most human in a while, even if I do sound like a cigar-smoking eighty year old with emphysema.
This has been, however, a gentle reminder to me that I should be exercising more and perhaps taking it a bit easy. A reminder I will take under consideration.
It also begs the question, How can I tell if my autistic child is sick? The answer is, sometimes you can't. With my own son, he starts to act real squirrely when he feels bad. More yelling, more stimming. Last night he coughed a lot in his sleep and was so congested that it sounded like a foghorn. When I informed him he would be staying home from school today, he could hardly believe it. "Logan go to school?" he asked me, over and over. And I reassured him that no, he did not have to go today. He has been uncharacteristically quiet today. I'm praying we have the energy to at least put up our tree the week of Christmas, and look forward to bedtime. Maybe when I wake up, our resident superbug will have seen its happy behind out the door.
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