So. Adorable. Mustn't. Kill.

Around 2 am Sunday night, I found myself resting on the bathroom floor, covered in a couple old bath towels like they were blankets. By resting, I mean hyperventilating and shaking uncontrollably. Because that's fun. When you're the kind of sick that makes it impossible to just stay in bed because no matter what position you try, you're still in immense pain.

Not to mention you're worried you might throw up all over the linens and then you know you'll have to do laundry and remake the bed, but the washer is downstairs. You ask yourself how are you going to make it all the way downstairs when you can't even hobble 6 inches from the bathroom to where the blankets are kept, hence the bath towels... Don't even start me thinking about my ability to remake a king size bed in this condition.

In other words, too sick to be in bed.

So, bathroom floor. Give myself a small mental kudos for just buying those Laura Ashley bath mats on clearance on Kohls.com sight unseen. The hubby said when we put them out last week, "I think these are too nice to use. I don't feel like I should walk on them."

At this moment in the middle of the night, the mat on the toilet seat lid is impressing me the most, since I am on my back on the floor with my feet up on the closed, carpeted lid. So that I can continue enjoying consciousness. Because that's what I'm doing. Enjoying it.

4 am the husband rises. Stands in the hall, taking in all the prettiness. Sighs. I look at him with my eyes but can't move my body at the moment.

"Honey?" He rubs his face.

"Hi," I say, like this all normal.

I feel a little like one of those pictures in a haunted mansion with the eyes that move. I decide my best bet is to not mention that I am trying not to use any neck, head, or facial muscles. Maybe he won't notice. I definitely know better than to move any limbs, since they're shaking rather forcefully. I tell myself it's all because I just fight nausea with all that I am. If there is a cell in my body that I can use to stop myself from throwing up, then I use it. I just can't deal with the whole being unable to breath thing. At one point about an hour ago, I'm pretty sure my body said, "Pass out or throw up, Dumbass" and I picked pass out.

Keep it inside, I tell myself, meaning don't tell the hubby any of this but also, hey, you've done so awesome so far at not throwing up, double meaning motivational speech!

The dog is still sound asleep on the bed. She has not given a crap all night, which I am trying not to take personally. However, always somehow the equalizers, 4 or 5 cats are randomly around me, all sitting up and looking around, nonchalant. Caring but not caring. Also enjoying the plushness of the bathmats, since not one of them is on any tile.

The hubby gets ready for work and says he is going to Walmart first for some anti-nausea over the counters and Ginger Ale. I beg for Sprite. For some reason, when I tell him not to get Ginger Ale, the normal go-to in the house, because "it's too spicy, I can't handle it right now", he gives me a really quizzical look.

What? It's way too ginger-y. I'll never keep it down, I thought. THAT IS NOT WEIRD AT ALL. YOU'RE THE WEIRD ONE, HUSBAND, FOR NOT GETTING THIS. DUH.

Something about his face made me keep this to myself although I felt incredibly confident in my mental state. This is when he started offering to stay home with me.

I'm starting to feel well enough to get back in bed. Which is heaven.

See! I'm totally fine! Sort of!

I manage to convince him to go to work. I feel guilty enough that he's already been caregiver extraordinaire of the day by 5 am.

He goes to work after I promise several times that no matter how much better I feel later, I shouldn't, say, get on the roof and clean out the gutters today. I should rest and take it easy.

I promise upteen times and he leaves for work.

I feel better but do not move large pieces of furniture or steam clean the carpets. I sit on the couch and watch television, thinking about how lucky I am.

That's when the phone rings. Because someone is at work, on a busy Monday, calling to check on me at home.

Brian Regan Date

When I think of excitement, when I think of entertainment, when I think of a city that never sleeps...

New York City? Been there. Theater, shopping, sidewalks full of hustle and bustle. Enjoyable. Will someday go there with the hubby.

Vegas? Got married there! It's all lights, chocolate fountains, and strawberries as big as your hands delivered to your hotel room.

Fort Wayne, Indiana. Haven't been. This is the town Brian Regan flew into on Thursday in order to play a show. Was the show actually in Fort Wayne? Of course not.

Wabash, Indiana.

Wabash. Indiana. A mere 6 1/2 hour drive from St. Louis. Just me and the hubby on the open road. Oh, the intense anticipation! The time change! Our first night away from home and from our dog in a very long time. Our first time being out, taking a road trip, and NOT going to a destination where my relatives live since we got married. Our first time in a hotel since our honeymoon! I brought swim suits! I dreamed of continental breakfasts! Had delicious plans to use every towel in the bathroom!

Sigh.

Yeah, of course, our trip wasn't as romantic or lovely as it should have been. And it was entirely my fault.

The story is my brother is a huge Brian Regan fan. And for good reason. The guy is hilarious. When he wanted to see Brian Regan on tour, we all were up for it. My folks and the hubby and me gave the green light. Besides, my brother is awesome, and there is little I wouldn't do for him. And now that I'm worried that he might join the military since he's been job hunting for over a year (he was laid off like so many people have been), well, every time we can do something together, I'm ready!

Brian Regan's tour schedule... New York, Pittsburgh, Ontario, Washington, Washington, Washington, California, California, California, Boston, Georgia, Georgia, Texas, Texas, Tulsa.

And then one town, a strange, random choice, stuck in the middle with no rhyme or reason. Wabash, Indiana.

WHY? I don't know. But we got tickets and decided to make a night of it. Since Mav the dog can't be left alone for a number of reasons (she's on medicines for epilepsy and hypothyroidism, has separation anxiety, and due to age and her pills, needs to pee ALL the time), so we either take her with when we go places or we just don't go. We set up a pet sitter to come and spend the night with her, crossing our fingers it would go okay. We decided months ago to leave Thursday afternoon, see the show Thursday night, then start back home and stay in a hotel when we got tired. We figured then we'd just get home sometime Friday morning.

Well, we didn't know what the lead up to the show would be. We didn't know the husband would be swamped with work, we'd be dealing with a house full of plumbing and electric problems, and we would, in general, be less than the level of amped we had hoped to be.

It didn't help that I had no idea really where Wabash was located, and that my inability to properly combine math, time, and geography would not, as I had expected, give us almost 2 extra hours to get there... I did everything backwards, I guess. So we'd given ourselves no extra time at all. This was totally my fault.

Almost immediately, the car was full of an atmosphere of "we're not going to make it", and if not for the comedy cds I downloaded for the trip, we would possibly be divorced right now. Wasn't a lot of talkin' in the car. I felt pretty crummy for making the hubby stressed and for dragging us across 3 states in order to see a show.

The drive was otherwise uneventful. My father came from 2 hours north of Wabash (my mom had gotten a terrible cold and couldn't come), and my brother came from 3 hours west. My dad beat us by about 10 minutes, and we beat my brother (the holder of the tickets) by another 10. We were parked and walking towards the building with about 10 minutes to spare. As rushed as everything was, it was still great to see my family and to be there with my husband at my side. I had offered to go alone the previous day, but he never even seemed to consider it.

I took pictures while speed walking. Here is the Honeywell Center, which we all agreed had to be the tallest building in Wabash. This is where Brian Regan was performing. Kinda looks like a hospital.

I let out a little squeal when we turned and entered the main courtyard in front of the building. Lights! Christmas-y! I cropped my father out of this photo because I'm pretty sure he doesn't want to be on the internet. You're welcome, Pops! The hubby looks happy, for a second! Can't believe I captured that on camera!

It was pretty cold. There was SNOW in the forecast. We ran in and got our seats quickly. I immediately felt relieved and in my element. The center was large and we had excellent seats. There was a balcony behind us. Everything looked very professional and relatively new. My brother wore a shirt I had gotten him for Christmas a couple years ago, which made me happy.

I did turn to my husband and ask him if he felt okay. Never have I felt more comfortable with such speed. Hi, Rural Indiana, you are my people.

I don't know why I felt that way. I just did. There was a broad range of ages and everyone just seemed super casual and super familiar to me. I was flanked by my brother and dad on one side and the hubby on the other, and every row of people just seemed like people that I've known all my life. It was really strange for me but also made everything easy. Especially since I know we were both pretty tired, and I was fighting a (winning!) battle against feeling sick to my stomach, with a dash of car sickness, and a pinch of the first stages of a migraine that would cause us to stop for the night 10 miles out of Wabash. Don't we just look fantastic?

It is true that a picture is worth a thousand words.

I was tired but happy to be all be together and to be seeing Brian Regan. I think the hubby and I both sat back and enjoyed the show. Joe Bolster was the opening act and he was pretty funny. Of course, Brian Regan didn't let us down. He was hilarious. All 4 of us laughed hard and often. I didn't feel good and worried that I would get so sick to my stomach that I'd have to leave during the show, but I made it through. I knew that the smartest thing I have possibly ever done in my life was only eat lunch at noon and not eat any snacks or get anything at any gas stations to eat.

The show ended and we all went our separate ways. We made a little caravan following each other in our vehicles the first few miles. It felt nice.

Then, we all turned to our separate exits. My husband had to stop the car almost immediately because I was so sick. Not good. Thank God for Best Western.

They had a large Christmas tree up in the lobby, and although no one was around it, it was obvious that it had come out recently. It was decorated haphazardly and only in the middle. I could hardly believe it. It really does go Halloween, then Christmas now.

The tree would have made me a little happy if I hadn't been needing to get horizontal so badly. Thankfully, our room was close, and we got in there, I took my migraine medicine, and we went to sleep. It was all sweats and socks on our feet. There was no sweet second honeymoon for us. I was just terrified that I would wake up with my migraine, but thankfully, I didn't. It was gone at 4 am our time. And yes, we got up, got ready in 10 minutes, and headed to check out. As we walked down the hall and towards the front desk, I realized how out of it I must have been only a handful of hours before.

I was too tired to get the camera out, but I should have. The Best Western we were staying at, in the middle of NOTHING, had a very, very, very specific theme. A theme that I think probably would give a lot of people nightmares.

THERE WAS A CIRCUS THEME.

AN ELABORATE CIRCUS THEME.

I had only seen the Christmas tree. I had not noticed EVERYTHING else in the hotel. Stuffed animals in old style circus cages, paintings of circus scenes, and the clowns. Oh, God, the clowns. There were tiny clown figurines, large glass clown faces, a porcelain train with each car loaded with one clown after another... Everywhere you looked, clowns. Clowns, clowns, clowns.

There were suites with large brass name plates. The suites had circus-themed names, like Ringling Brothers Suite. It was not a subtle decorating scheme. It was a pie in your face, drill sergeant yelling at you nose-to-nose, deep voiced announcer in your ear yelling, "Are you ready for some EXTREME CIRCUS in your life? No? WELL GET READY!" BOOM! All up in your personal space, all attacking you and sh*t. Then I guess they're supposed to end their greeting with "Welcome to Best Western. We hope you have a restful time here." Sure, why not.

I think we were both pretty okay getting out of there. We headed home, this time with me driving the whole way. The motion sickness stayed away and we were back by 10 am to find Mav happy and fine.

The second we walked in the door, the hubby asked, "Where's Atlas?"

I thought he was crazy. We have how many rescued kitties? Did he really expect them all to be lined up on the staircase when we got home? It was the weirdest thing for him to say.

Then he said, "He's in the basement!" and I thought, "You've lost your frickin' mind."

Threw open the basement door, and low and behold, Atlas was up on the counter and bins and was at eye level with me. He immediately rammed his head into my nose and began purring a monster purr. Sigh.

I guess he'd known the sitter was an easy mark and had snuck into the basement an hour before we got home when she went in there to get Mav's food. She was probably completely unaware anything had happened. The 3 rescues down there were hiding under the staircase, and even though the 2 are very affectionate and loving with us, they hissed and were terrified. Those 3 hadn't met the rest of our kitties yet. It had obviously been a rude introduction since Atlas had some battle marks. We let them be and they came around later in the day.

Atlas had one major addition to his person (his cat?) and that was a giant wound in his ear. We got to run him into the vet right away and learned that it went straight through his ear. It was a mess but at least he was looked at and should be fine. Now I get to give him antibiotics and apply hot packs twice a day. Ever tried to hold a hot-as-hell, wet washcloth to a cat's ear and apply pressure for FIVE STRAIGHT MINUTES?

Twice a day.

Of course.

The perfect ending to the perfect trip.

Am I upset? Do I regret this trip? No. Maybe I would have planned a little better if I could do it over again, but I'd still want to go and for the hubby to come, too.

We would have missed a lot of laughter and we wouldn't be able to say, years from now, "Do you remember that time we drove to Wabash to see Brian Regan?"

"Oh my God. And the Circus Best Western?"

C.U. Day

The husband's cough and congestion are officially back. *Bangs head on desk 3 times.

Invictus has sat on our tv from Netflix for 3 weeks. We watched it yesterday. Contrary to (my) popular belief, it is not about soccer. Excellent movie. Even with all the rugby. I think Nelson Mandela may be a really lovely alien, or at least have some sort of disease that we would all be lucky to get because it gives him so much more humanity than I think is possible.

The weekend passed without our leaving the house. This will definitely need to change in the future. It is way too easy to push "start" on the dishwasher and then claim to have had a productive, fun weekend.

In reality, I don't think we brushed our teeth enough or ate regular meals (jelly stuffed Japanese marshmallows are gone now *sad face). We should have at least changed from our pajamas into other pajamas. Sigh.

We're starting a busy month. This week alone, there's a cat getting 3 stitches removed, an appointment in the early morning hours with an exterminator, and Daniel Tosh. Daniel Tosh is definitely a date, but we're still a the point where it feels a little like work right now. It's at a place with a thing and a set time and we have to be there, all adult and conscious and dressed and parked correctly and on time... Yeah. I'm sure once we get there, in our seats, we'll be happy. Until then, it's a scheduled appointment like all the others.

Sexy Monday time. Today is cat urinalysis day. Yes, you did read that correctly. Have to go in a minute and find and crate a kitty for his urinalysis. Oh joy.

I also need to clean, and do laundry, and go to the grocery store...

I have to be sure to stop when the hubby gets home so I give him a cuddle. So we can each regain some fraction of our sanity. I shouldn't complain. At least I didn't have to get up at four and then go into a job with actual people and actual work. With the interaction and the computers and the meetings... Wow, do I not miss meetings. I would not trade my day with his. Not even on cat urinalysis day.

This Photo Tells The Story Of Our Weekend

And no, there are not enough options. We're on a budget, People.

Don't even try to tell me that other people do not have 2 thermometers.

You need two, one for the original reading and one for right after that

when the first thermometer has made you all angry. Right? Right.

And for the record, yes, there may have been some type of elaborate

chart somewhere since someone is still technically a licensed nurse.

Bigger Than Dating

Well, this past week has been less than romantic. As is life sometimes. Dating hasn't been on our schedule or minds.

My husband came home from work early late last week with a fever of 102. I attempted to give him acetaminophen to bring it down, but it fought with me and refused to break until around 9 pm, when I gave him a cold/flu tab with various medications in it. The heat just radiated off of him. My husband has always been very healthy, and the few times he's been sick since I've known him, he's bounced back quickly and with ease. He said he had never had a fever before that had caused him to feel so warm himself because every time he's ever had a fever, he gets the chills. Not this time. He was steaming and felt like it. I thought the fever had broken for good, but the next day it was back and as tenacious as ever. 102 degrees.

I don't know if it's the nurse in me, the control freak, or just the general job description of being a wife, but seeing my husband sick kicks on my worry machine and I go all out "I will defeat this" before the thermometer beeps for the first time. I want to make it better and to give comfort, but when someone's miserable, comfort can be hard to come by. Watching someone you love feeling awful makes you feel awful, too. Helpless. Like all you can do is watch because you can't protect your loved one from this or make it go away.

Over the weekend, I tended to him the best I could. Made him take various over the counter medications to treat his symptoms and still watched his temp hit 99. Pushed fluids like a crazy person. I cooked him turkey chili and made taco salads at his request. At least his stomach wasn't upset. The first thing my mom said when I mentioned he was sick was, "It's the eggs!" If there's a silver lining, it was that we didn't get sick from the egg recall. My husband, always one to surprise me. When I'm sick, the last thing I ever think is, "Mmmm. Chili sounds delicious."

As his fever subsided with the end of the weekend, we both expected him to start feeling better. His cough, which had been frustrating but we figured was simply along for the ride, suddenly took on a deeper, more jarring character. He started complaining of chest congestion and sinus pain. Well, not complaining. He doesn't complain. But he does answer when I list off every possible sign and symptom and ask if he has it. Thank you again, nursing school, for giving me a hefty, hefty list to draw from automatically.

He went to work Monday and met a chorus of coworkers who sang the same song I had sung earlier. It's called, "You shouldn't have bothered to come into work" and was certainly originally recorded by spouses everywhere. He didn't last long, as his cough increased and what little energy he had decreased. He threw in the towel and came home.

On Tuesday morning, I started calling the doctor's office at 10 until 9 and got a hold of someone at 9:10 am. Their only opening was at 9:30, so we fast forwarded through only necessities and practically raced into the office at 9:25. It was a brush your teeth but put off peeing until you get home later kind of morning.

We saw the doctor quickly and antibiotics were prescribed, a kind of which surprised me, but okay, let's kill it. I'm with you. But holy sh*t.

The doctor thought that he had an initial virus last week that weakened him enough for a bacterial infection to creep in. That's why he was getting worse instead of better.

I ran him home and then took a quick trip to the pharmacy (and to get ingredients for spaghetti - seriously, last week I stocked up on noodle soup, crackers, ginger ale, and jello and he's touched none of it). I came home to find him as I had for days, in bed. He's been either resting in bed or sleeping for a week. Sometimes he has to sit up in bed, often at weird night hours, because his chest congestion is too much for him laying down.

I listen to the coughing and hacking. Voice disintegrating more and more. Whatever this is, it's sure taking its time with him, settled in, and called relatives for reinforcements. As ready as I am for him to wake up and feel better, I imagine he's about twice as ready as that.

Even now, he's in bed. Medicated. Exhausted. Weary and weak. All I can do is bring him juice, keep the dog from trying to sleep on top of him, and wait. The nurse in me has an elaborate medication chart on the large white board in the office. We have too many medications to count to treat his symptoms. The control freak in me has cleaned every inch of the house (no way he'll reinfect himself!). And the wife in me, well, she's just watching him. From morning until... Morning. I don't hold back the murmuring consoling words, the back rub, or the furrowed brow.

Right now all I'm doing is waiting, worrying, and waiting. How wonderful were all those weekends, all those dates, all this time... When we felt well, healthy and happy. How easy it is to take that for granted until all of a sudden it is gone. How lucky we are to be fighting what is only a nasty infection or general flu-like illness, one that will leave as it came, and will, with all my hope, soon be nothing but a memory.

Proud and Ashamed!

I am proud of all the "dating" we have done the past few months. We went and saw and did so much. Almost every weekend, we have managed to take the time to be together and focus on each other. And I know we both feel like it's only the beginning!

At the same time, I'm a tad ashamed. Life getting in the way was why we settled into a comfort zone in the first place. That said, hello life. We've had a busy week. Car repairs, vet appointments, and errands galore.

There's been the joy that can only come with the stomach flu. My husband has made a decree that I am no longer allowed to eat out, since it seems God hates me. We thought we'd found a couple places where I was okay, but we were mistaken. After a couple questionable responses and never totally recovering, one ice cream after the wolf sanctuary was enough to put me out of commission for nearly a week.

Then, there was the show entitled "People And Stuff Are Coming" starring my husband and me, my folks, my grandmother's organ, several gigantic and heavy things from my dead grandfather's house, and some movers who shall not be named. Not because I want to conceal their identities either. Because we were never fortunate enough for introductions. We waited for furniture to be moved here from 2 states away. The movers were no shows 3 times in a row, and trust me, I got off easy in comparison to everyone else. I was just waiting for them to deliver furniture. It was worse for those who were waiting for it to be picked up.

A lot of my waiting involved me super cleaning and moving large pieces of furniture around to make room for more large pieces of furniture that were coming. Since I didn't know how many movers there would be and because I was the middle stop in a straight-shot-turned-triangle-turned-polygon journey, I wanted to have something nice to give them when they finished here. I baked 2 kinds of cookies from scratch, wrote a heartfelt card, and made a little basket decorated with maps of where the movers were from on it to hold the cookies. There's 5 hours in the kitchen I'm never getting back.

Suffice to say, the husband's office had a pretty good week. They were amazed that I had cut out little circles of wax paper to put between the cookies, since I had stacked them and wrapped the little stacks in plastic wrap before tying them off in pretty curling ribbon (ribbon that, I might add, matched the pretty little map-cookie-holder-basket). Sigh. At least they were appreciated.

Lastly, Ramadan started. Which is a good thing in general but the first couple days can be difficult. The body is tired and hungry and doesn't understand why this is happening. And with the two of us, we have entirely different reactions and responses. The husband adapts more easily than me in general and is more laid back. His nerves are well guarded and his boiling point high. He handles it with grace and ease. It seems easy to him, and if it isn't, he certainly hides it well. He is a good model but one that I often fail to emulate. Today, I feel really good. My energy is high and I am very alert. My snarky, snappy, cranky side is quiet. I feel like I could do out and do just about anything...

Of course, this could change at any moment. And, the husband has had to work the past several days. He's started his days at 3am. Not like me, where I might start my day at 3 but then by 4 restart my night by going back to bed for a few more hours. The hubby has gotten up and stayed up, his days filled with work, errands, and then time at home with me. It is not surprising that he would need a nap this afternoon. That he would not have some sort of second wind like mine. Surely this is because he's had a second wind earlier this week. And a third, then a fourth...

I do not know when we'll have comparable energy for our next date. We've decided a movie (I know, I know) is something we could manage. I think this was mostly because we have 2 movies out that we'd love to see in the theater (The Other Guys and Scott Pilgrim). Beyond that, we'll see how this next week goes. I have a very interesting list of dates that I have deemed appropriate for the more relaxed, easy going time that is needed while fasting.

Whether I'll be proud to give my account of them or ashamed that they stayed only good ideas, only the next several weeks will tell. I have a feeling that although this weekend may pass quietly, the ones to come will not walk by so softly. They might be driven by horses, creeped out by puppets, barked at by dogs, or experimented on through science. All in the name of dating my husband!