The beginning of October, I had a 100+ fever for eight days. As fun as that sounds, it really, really wasn't.
Last week, Kembry sliced her finger open. A day and a half later, she tore off her bandage. A day later, she tore off her SECOND bandage.
Cohen has been practicing for months for his Primary Program. I have been gathering tissues for month, preparing for MY first Primary Program. The night before the program, Cohen threw up all over his comforter, then his sheets, then his CLEAN sheets, then his SECOND PAIR OF CLEAN SHEETS (please keep in mind, Brett washed them all in the middle of the night, being prepared. He's amazing!)
The next morning, I asked him if he wanted to try to make it to the program. He said, "I don't feel good," then threw up again.
But I think...I think...I think it's all over now. I feel okay. Brett's not sick. Knives are tucked away from Kembry, she's no longer bleeding, and Cohen is back to his wild, non-vomiting self.
I can't complain. I'm thinking a lot about a cousin whose in the hospital, about the selfless act that put her there, and about the positive attitude she has. There are such worse things than sliced fingers, vomit-covered blankets and sheets, and missing first primary programs. Though I can't say there are many things worse than the swine flu.