Paranoia

(This post is a continuation of yesterday's story.  Click to read the previous post.)

We quickly rushed home from our jaunt into town as soon as we saw the look of oncoming flu on Cael's face.  (For those of you unfamiliar with the look of flu, it is a paleness best described as a cross between albino and death).  Cael slept through much of the car ride and went straight down for his nap when we got home, Joel and I relieved that the holey Walmart bag we'd given him for an emergency sick bag was still empty.

When he woke up, the color was back in his face and he came upstairs, announcing, "I want lunch!".  Knowing the pattern that Joel's flu had taken three days earlier, I managed to avoid feeding him and complimented my own foreshadowing skills as soon as Cael started getting sick in a plastic garbage can liner. 

Two down, two to go.

As sick as Joel was, however, Cael was the picture of health even though he wasn't the sound (or the smell) of it.  He'd run around the house, playing normally, and then crash on the couch for a moment or two before getting sick again.  Wash, rinse, repeat.

By bedtime that evening, Cael was through the worst of it and woke up Saturday morning feeling himself again.  But as grateful as I was that my eldest had recovered, I found myself living in constant fear that Graham would fall ill.  Every time I laid him down, I prompted Graham to call me if he felt sick, and when he woke up crying, an uncharacteristic behavior for him, I was SURE he'd gotten sick.

My fear for Graham was justified, given his hospitalization last February for a serious bout of stomach flu that left him severely dehydrated and with low blood sugar.  My fear for myself was secondary but proved to be the most debilitating. 

I was sure I'd catch the flu.  I knew it.  I found myself analyzing and second-guessing every choice I made. 


Should I eat that leftover stuffing?  Is that really what I want to revisit in a few hours?  Is the pecan pie really worth it?  (It totally is, by the way.)  Perhaps I should stick to a banana.  Or soup.  Something soft that will come up as easily as it went down?  Maybe I shouldn't leave the house in case I get sick.  Or should I bring a bucket along?

As of today, I still haven't caught the flu.  But have I just jinxed myself?