Strep throat is a modern pestilence that has developed an evil reputation, not on it's own merits exactly, but because of it's propensity to fascilitate the kind of complications that can kill children and the elderly. Philip has strep throat. For two days he's been prostrate. This is a man who has to be chained to his bed to keep him still the day after having major surgery on an impressively broken humorous bone. It is his usual way to pretend he isn't sick, to withstand great discomfort in the effort to deny sickness it's power. (It's a Williamson family tradition, possibly linked to the strong religious faith of his parents.) He could not out-wit strep. It felled him like a weak tree. He's been in the worst kind of pain. Barely able to talk. His throat has been so swollen he can barely form vowels.
Meanwhile...I have been experiencing the hardship of being a single parent. Let me say here, I'm a weak specimen if ever there was one. If Philip ever leaves me and I get custody of Max, I'm up shit creek. Seriously. That's one hell of a shitty gig. Granted, maybe it's easier when you aren't also caring for a sick log of a man. Still, single parents out there: Kudos to you! I'm beat. I'm brain-dead already. And I only have the one little munchkin. (Though he generally takes as much energy to raise as two or three combined.)
Yesterday I got Philip his prescription for the serious antibiotics. The kind they reserve for those who are already half dead. Then I went to work. I started to feel my throat swelling. Normally I wouldn't pay attention. I have seasonal allergies which frequently cause my throat to swell, sometimes get scratchy, make my nose run...and then as soon as I'm convinced it's a cold, it ceases fire. But this time, I felt chills run through my bones at the thought that maybe, just maybe, I was coming down with strep too. This is not allowable. Because if I'm brought down by this pestilence, who will feed Max, the cat, the dog, and the chickens? Strep isn't like a regular cold where you just power through. You can barely move. So I took myself to Urgent Care where Philip had gone a mere few hours previously, and got myself swabbed.
Which is horrible, by the way. I came very close to vomiting on the doctor. My strip came up negative for strep. However, due to the fact that Max has already had strep twice this year, and that my chances of having been infected were pretty good, and also the fact that I prostrated myself pitiously at their feet and BEGGED them to have mercy on me and give me antibiotics because I just can't get strep now or they'll be reading about our dead family in the News Register in two days....they decided it was wisest that I take some antibiotics.
As I have mentioned before, I am not necessarily a huge friend of antibiotics. I never allow antibiotic soap to cross my threshold. I rarely use antibiotic wipes. I didnt' grow up using them, and as an adult I have rarely resorted to them. However, seeing the state Philip is in, anticipating the pain I would feel if I came down with what he had, and realizing that if I did the usually-reasonable wait and see game, then it would be too late if I turned out to have strep, I did not want to mess around. I have never before used antibiotics in a preemptive strike against illness, but I'm going to boldly tell you all right now: I'm glad I did. Because today I am not contagious to Max or anyone else. If Max has already gotten it from Philip (or me) then we will treat it at once. But if he hasn't gotten it yet (so far he feels completely healthy) then he's safe. From us anyway.
Yesterday I did something else I have never done in my life: I wiped down all the door knobs and faucet handles, cabinet doors, and fridge handles. I used Mrs. Meyer's counter top spray. It's not antibiotic, but it wipes away germs. That shows how motivated I am to not get sick right now. All this has made me feel a little itchy about our house. As in: I wouldn't mind it at all if I had the time to disinfect this house from top to bloody bottom!
Unfortunately I don't have time. I have about five trillion things to do today and I actually still don't have a viable plan for getting any of it done. Except to stop writing, get my butt moving, and close my brain off to any suggestion that I'm not going to get through it.