We've got Strep! Or at least Jack and I do. I think my husband does as well, but he'll never admit to it. He's very stoic about being sick. He'll deny being ill for days and days, until he finally collapses in a heap.
I should say that although I'm quite happy to tell everyone I'm sick, I rarely go to the doctor. I don't know why. We're just not very doctor-y around here. Jack and Will rarely get sick--neither of them have ever had an ear infection--and the few times I've taken them to the doctor, I've been told what I already know: lots of fluids and rest. In general, it seems like a waste of time and money to me, unless soaring fevers and flaming red throats are involved.
I almost didn't go to the doctor for this, having neither fever nor sore throat. But then I found out my niece had come down with a sore throat when she got home from her visit here and had been prescribed antibiotics. It wasn't so much that I was thinking, "Oh, we must have Strep" (that would have been too obvious). It was more like, "You know, I am so tired of feeling sick, and now Jack's feeling sick, and who knows, maybe somebody can give us some drugs to feel better."
So off we went to Urgent Care, and two throat swabs later we were dropping off penicillin prescriptions at the pharmacy. I still feel sick, but I have to say, I'm so much happier knowing that I have something specific and that it will be resolved in a the next couple of days. I'm happy, too, that Jack won't have to sit around for a week feeling ill (and missing camp next week). He will most likely bounce back by tomorrow. In fact, he seems pretty cheerful today--but then my children have never cooperated with illness. Even when they're sick, they're up and about, asking to play on the computer, wondering what there is to eat.
Today is our fourteenth wedding anniversary. Or at least I'm pretty sure it is. I suppose it says something about how romantic and sentimental I am that a) I've waited to make this announcement five or six paragraphs into today's entry; and b) that I'm not actually sure when my anniversary is (neither is my husband). It's either two months after my birthday (the 30th) or one month before my mother's (the 31st). I've decided it's just easier to remember the last day of July than the second to last day of July.
My husband said this morning that we're friendlier and more romantic every day than most people are once a year on their anniversaries, so that's why we don't make a bigger deal out of it. And I would say that if there is any single key to long term happiness, other than natural compatibility, it's making a concerted effort to be friendly and polite to one another. I learned this from my husband. I was much surlier when we were first married, known to be difficult first thing in the morning, and highly resistant to saying "I'm sorry" or swallowing my pride. The thing is, my husband is perfectly capable of surliness and bad moods and pride, but he makes an effort to be--well, friendly really is the only word for it. And over the years it has rubbed off on me. I'm a much better person than I would have been had I not married the man I did.
Of course, I married him because he's cute. The rest is just gravy.
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