I wandered into our guest room/office today, which has served as the sleeping quarters for the parent who loses the “I feel worse than you do” battle (the winner gets our bedroom). I noticed this flower. I don’t know how long it has been this way. A good while I suspect. I thought it the perfect reflection of how our family has felt the last ten days. And the fact that it’s sitting there, in rancid water, all droopy and dead with dust covering the once perky orange petals reflects the level of neglect our home has experienced.

It started ten days ago with James telling me he didn’t "feel quite right.” Now that is never really good is it, that ‘not right’ feeling? So, while feeling for James, but also receiving a quick flash of what his ‘not right’ feeling might mean for the rest of us I sent him to our room with instructions to get in bed and not leave. This was a Saturday. Sure enough aches, high fever, weakness, headaches, severe congestion all reared its ugly head sometime that night. Poor guy. He tried to find a way out of preaching Sunday but when you are the planting pastor that is not necessarily easy. So he forced a shower and made it to church, preached and returned to bed. He did not get out until Tuesday.

Now, I was feeling pretty good that no one else was showing any evidence of the crud. My efforts were paying off. Keeping James quarantined, dashing in and out of the room with his food and medicine and washing up after each visit, spraying Lysol on anything James had previously touched. . . you know, typical ocd behavior. On Tuesday when James found the energy to take a shower I decided to change the sheets for him. Maybe that’s where I went wrong. Tuesday night, I lay on the couch, pleased that after three full days of caring for everyone I could relax and watch the American Idol wannabe’s take the stage. And then it happened. Out of nowhere I started having that ‘not right’ feeling. Oh noooo! This can’t happen. James is far from well and if I get what he has who is going to keep up with our rugrats? Sure enough, within an hour I felt like spit. And to top it off, because my body is just good to me this way, I developed a migraine.

James and I tag teamed on Wednesday. The kids still seemed okay, thank God for small favors. Then Thursday morning around 4.00am I hear the screams. It’s Luke I realize in my muddled state of mind. I dash to his room thinking he was having a nightmare. As I am holding him trying to calm him down I say, “it’s okay Luke, you were just having a nightmare.” He pulls back from me with a look on his face that seemed to confirm this as he wailed in complete horror, “I think I have what you guys have!” Ohhh, he’s sick. Not wanting to disturb Wil we dash out of the room, a vain attempt, but hey, you can’t blame a girl for trying. I bring him into my room where through his tears he is still talking, “I’m cold like dad.” Neither of us got any more sleep that morning. And I am reminded once again that Luke is sooo not subtle about anything.

James got Wil up later that morning while I stayed in bed (for the next three days!). I heard the bath running so I knew that wasn’t good. In our house, running a bath in the morning means Wil has a pretty good mess in his pj’s. Sure enough diarrhea set in for him. And continues to this day.
I will spare you the details of the following days but will tell you that by Sunday, in my desperation, I went to an urgent care center where I was diagnosed with Strep. Yay, I got drugs! Wil was given the same news Monday and James was told he has a massive sinus infection. So, we are now, on Tuesday, still weak but have beloved antibiotics pumping through our veins so hope has entered the house!