One week later...

So my sister-in-law was a bit off in her estimate of a 24-hour bug.  It's been a week since we got hit, and we're all still dealing with the after-effects of a rather dreadful bout with the flu. Was it the actual flu?  Well, I think so, as I can't recall the last time I had a 39 (103) degree fever, that came out of nowhere, with a cold.  However, our rather odd physician, assigned by the town clinic (where everyone has to go for treatment, if they are a carrier of the public insurance) disagreed.

The doctors at the CAP (clinic) all have their own private practices as well, and do hours at the CAP on a regular schedule each week.  I'd never met our doctor before, but have been pretty happy with the medical treatment our children have received at the hands of the pediatricians and nurses there.  My husband said that he's known this doctor since he was little, and that he was great, 'really knows his stuff,' etc.

Upon meeting our doc, I was a bit taken aback by his general appearance...he had those wacky bifocals that make one's eyes look like dinner plates, and can be altogether disconcerting when making eye contact. He also had a rather gruff way about him which made it clear he was not open to questions.  Since my husband and I had the same bug, we just went in together.  He looked at both of our throats, listened to both of us breathe, and pronounced that we did not in fact have the flu, but a cold.  I, still convinced it was the flu, bit my tongue to ask how he could possibly know this for sure, and waited for his treatment plan.  Regardless of whether it is the flu or a cold, there really isn't much you can do but ride it out...  He prescribed lots of ibuprofen and paracetamol (acetaminophen), and Jordi got a cough syrup (me no, as am still making food for Mr. Bean) and that was it.  No biggie that I disagreed with his diagnosis...what he said to Jordi during the appointment was much, much worse.  When examining our throats he said:

'Yours is worse than your wife's.'

This, of course, opened a giant door for my husband to lay claim that he was, in fact, feeling more poorly than me.  A door which most definitely did not need to be opened.  I never get to be sick by myself, because he always gets the virus of the week as well.  Then I feel the need to take care of him as well as the kids, as he just seems much sicker than me.  Men are not the best patients, and sometimes I honestly think that they just have a far lower tolerance for pain than we do.  We do give birth after all.

Luckily, by the time the mass quantities of painkillers had kicked in, he was more up and able to help out with the children's needs as well as general house stuff that needed doing.  He went back to work yesterday, stating that he was able to get more rest working as a PE teacher with small children than he was  able to get at  home.  An accurate assessment, I suppose.

We're all pretty much better now, Monkey Lou is still spewing incredibly gross amounts of goop from her nose and Mr. Bean has an altogether adorable cough, but we're all on the mend.

Thank goodness, because now that we're all over this illness, I can finally sit down and take a rest.