I have this friend who's going through a bit of a rough patch lately.
She's dealing with two family members who are experiencing their own personal One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest moments.
On Saturday she was out weeding with her kids when she stepped on a nail that popped right through her shoe and into the arch of her foot.
And as it turned out, some of those weeds? Poison Ivy. Yeah, she's got that.
Later that night, she was returning home from taking her kids somewhere when she got the call that her dog had been hit by a car. This particular dog NEVER leaves the yard, but for some reason he left it on a dark and rainy night and ran right out in front of a car. So my friend took him to the emergency vet clinic and didn't get home till three in the morning. It's touch and go for the poor old dog, who seems to have damaged his spinal cord. Time will tell. She's praying to St. Francis and all his heavenly buddies that he'll be able to walk again.
But the Calendar Gods must be pleased, still, so the next morning she was up at the break of dawn to take a couple kids to their job, and then later another kid to a soccer game. It was while she was at the game she felt it coming on. That achiness. When she got home she was able to confirm with a swipe across the temple: fever.
Went to the doctor on Tuesday, and he did a culture, so it's not confirmed yet, but she has all the earmarks of having the flu. 102.6 degree fever, cough, fatigue, feeling like she'd been run over by a truck. Doc says she's an "index case", meaning the first in the area. Asked her all kinds of questions about people she might have been in contact with that had travelled. Said the officials would have to be notified.
Made her feel very special.
Like Gwyneth Paltrow from Contagion.
Except she died, so let's think of someone else.
But special or not, she still had to contend with kids who needed rides, kids who needed to eat, a dog that needed meds three times a day and to be walked in a towel-turned sling, and a house that was falling into disarray faster than you could say influenza.
Not that she was doing much of anything to hold the disarray at bay. She would bleakly mumble, "Do your chores" from beneath the pile of blankets under the sofa, without any kind of follow-up or threat of consequences. She'd sweet talk the oldest into sling-walking the handicapped dog into the yard and giving him his meds. She would point a finger in the general direction of staples like cereal and eggs when asked "What's for dinner?".
Hopefully she'll be OK, this friend of mine.
Say a prayer for her, would you?
And throw her a pity vote on Top Mommy Blogs? You know the drill by now. Just click the juggling chick and you've voted. You can vote every day till like, forever.