The Circus Comes to Town

And in this ring...

Hi friends. I know it's been a day or two, but this week life has been a circus.

With Stephen King as the Ring Master.

It all started well enough. Back to work on Monday and so on.

But Tuesday I started to hear the little voice of death that says "I'm coming. And there is nothing you can do about it." Death's name is the flu. Death has no sense of humor. We only thought the nasty little guy was done with us. I thought I had escaped his grip the first time around. But alas, he realized his error.

Tuesday night my husband started to experience a lot of pain. Being the compassionate and merciful wife that I am, I rolled my eyes and thought to myself, "Can I never be the one who is sick?" Turns out I can, but not alone.

After a night of pain, a phone call to the doctor, a trip to the pharmacy and plenty of soup later, I thought we would be good to go. To sleep. So I could die in peace. Nope, folks - pop the popcorn, grab some cotton candy cause the circus just got started. Here come the clowns.

Around oh say, 10 Wednesday, hubby love starts to YELL in pain. Now I was worried before, but I am, at this point, more than very concerned. My husband is not a wimp. He does not make more of his illness than it is. No man-flu for him. (Thanks Ali for educating me on that term. Hope you are feeling a bit better!)

The doctor only confirmed my fears, "Get to the emergency room NOW." Great doc, got any double rooms at the inn? We get to the ER or ED or whatever you prefer to call it. And of course we rush in they take him right in and 10 minutes later they...yeah right. We did go right in and then right out into the waiting room. His pain worsens. I mean, at one point it got so bad he was on his hands and knees. That made me cry.

The Triage nurse sees my husband on the floor and talks to the ER doctor and they bring him back despite the fact that there are several ahead of him. The questions and the tests begin. He is in good hands. We wait several hours but they check on him regularly.

On top of all this, this very day both of my kids had a dentist appointment to have teeth pulled.

Now, normally I would have canceled the appointment and they gladly would have let me. But we have waited for a month for this day and the next step after is to have braces put on. So since the doctors assured me he was going to live, I figured I wouldn't wait another month to have this done.

So, once they took hubby to have a CAT Scan, I ran to take the kids. All went well, we return to the hospital only 1 1/2 hours later. He is still in CAT Scan.

People come and visit Jesse. We wait some more. Around nine that night they give him a diagnosis of diverticulitis. They let him go home with the understanding that if he does not keep his antibiotics or liquid diet down he must return to be hospitalized. At this point I think he would agree to just about anything to be at home.

The next morning I run to get his prescriptions filled, buy some more soup and some ginger ale. I play nurse to all three. Dish out pain meds, soup, ice water, ginger ale. More pain meds, antibiotics. Help up. Help back in bed. More pain meds. I didn't have time to deal with mr. death, but he is patient. He waited until I passed out that evening and gave me the full measure of his wrath. I guess I am the contortionist and the trapeze artist in the center ring.

So, today was spent dying. And coughing. And sleeping. I think there was a movie on about ballerinas, Mel Gibson and pork chops, but I don't remember if that was a feverish dream at this point. And I didn't even get to partake in the pain medicine.

Ladies and gentlemen, this concludes our show - Cirque du Moya. The clowns have left and the tents are empty. Nothing left of the fun but peanut shells, tummy aches and elephant poo.

Hope you enjoyed the show. I am returning to the tent to continue dying. Maybe watch the Mel Gibson ballerina & pork chop movie again. He did look pretty funny in a tutu.