We're Praying it doesn't come in threes for Daddy

Do not come near the Phillips house. We are infected.

I spent Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and most of Sunday sick. First I thought I had food poisoning from Tropical Smoothie Cafe. Then I got the fever. And not the Peggy Lee kind, the kind where you have the chills so bad you can't move except to keep calling your husband on his cell phone to have him bring you more blankets. And oh, while you are here, can you put socks on my feet, gloves on my hands, and take a picture of me for the blog? And can you hunt down a thermometer that hasn't been in our son's bum? No? Fine. Just wipe it off and I'll jab it in my armpit.

104.

I'm pretty sure that this is the highest fever I've ever had. And it was at this point I was certain that I didn't have food poisoning. So off to the doctor. Who then sent me to the hospital for fluids and to have a cat scan of my abdomen to rule out appendicitis.

The ad that states that there is no wait at St. Francis hospital is a lie. A BOLD FACED LIE. 7 hours later, no appendicitis. Just stomach flu, a bladder infection, and a mean timing for my endometriosis to put me in a lot of pain as well. Awesome. But the drugs were good. So good I thought the first two cups of contrast material tasted good. Nothing beats an IV drip to get that Diladin and Zofran into your system.

Saturday is a haze. Spent most of it in a Vicodin and Lomodal induced coma. Sunday I started to feel somewhat better. Until Henry puked on me. Right as I'd put him into my lap to discuss why we didn't color on the couch and leaned my head in to suggest we pray to Jesus to help us be obedient. Awesome.

But it was a good thing I spent most of the weekend asleep, as Henry needed every single inch of his little body to be touching mine at all times in order to be comfortable. I think he finally fell asleep between 5 and 8. Me, seeing as I had set of knees that kept jabbing my crotch and then a 102 temped body atop me, not so much.

And because Henry heard that we Phillips' like to double up on our illnesses--Henry has both the stomach flu AND a double ear infection. Awesome. Thankfully, they put him on an antibiotics that won't add to the poop soup.

But the kicker is, why is he still spry? I know he didn't get any sleep last night. Why isn't he the cuddly puny boy he was last night? One dose of motrin and Omnicef is all it takes and he's back to climbing the walls....

****Also, as a side note. Should you ever go to the ER with someone for a panic attack or a rapid heartbeat, I do not think the following is a good conversation to have. (Overheard through a curtain)

Man: I've told you not to be stressed out.
Woman: Groan.
Man: Well, you've just got to stop it. Right now. I mean it.
Woman: Groan.
Man: I know you are thinking about my heart surgery next week. That I might die. That you'll lose everything you've ever loved. Your hopes and dreams shattered. But you just can't think about it.
Woman: Groan.
Man: Just stop thinking about me dying. Stop thinking about it. Stop it, I said.