Mr. Deathbed
Recently a stomach virus swept through our household with a ferocity I've rarely seen. I mean, we all fell prey, swiftly and severely, to its vomitorious grossness. All except for my husband, of course, who is rarely ill. Probably because he works six days a week and is never home to immerse himself elbow-deep in germ-infested toilets and pukey clothing like I am.
But then ... days after the rest of us, when the toilets had long been sanitized and life had resumed without a single case of diarrhea in the house ... he got it.
Now, for purposes of comparison, let me outline my own experience with the stomach bug. I had been tirelessly taking care of the three children that got it before me, as moms do, so it was only a matter of time. It hit me about 10 pm, and I spent the hours between then and dawn alternately retching and pooping (sometimes both simultaneously ... you're welcome), laying in a disgusting heap on the bathroom floor in cold, lonely, quiet angst while Curtis sle…
But then ... days after the rest of us, when the toilets had long been sanitized and life had resumed without a single case of diarrhea in the house ... he got it.
Now, for purposes of comparison, let me outline my own experience with the stomach bug. I had been tirelessly taking care of the three children that got it before me, as moms do, so it was only a matter of time. It hit me about 10 pm, and I spent the hours between then and dawn alternately retching and pooping (sometimes both simultaneously ... you're welcome), laying in a disgusting heap on the bathroom floor in cold, lonely, quiet angst while Curtis sle…
