I went to bed early on Thursday night because I was feeling miserable. I thought that I was done being sick for the year, but it seemed as though I was coming down with with a nasty chest cold or something. When Shaun came to bed a few hours later, I had been laying there listening to my chest wheezing and crackling away. I told my Beloved that I was pretty sure one of my lungs had collapsed. He merely grunted and asked me to try to stifle my coughing.
Friday night when Shaun came home from work, I gave him the dire news that I in fact, had pneumonia “Pneumonia?” he asked as he poorly masked a smirk, “I thought you told me that you had collapsed lung last night…what happened?”
“It morphed” I told him. “these things happen.”
I struggled with my dire illness all through the night and through most of Saturday before I realized what was really wrong with me. “Shaun” I said, “don’t be alarmed, but I’m pretty sure I have tuberculosis”
I fully expected my husband to prostrate himself on the ground with grief, but he merely grunted and asked me if I needed anything from the store before telling me I should go back to bed. (You may think this was concern, but in reality he was just trying to get me and my TB germs away from him. You pick up on little things like that after twenty years of marriage)
Yesterday morning, I whimpered to him that I had the Something-Really-Bad-Disease and that he should be just a little more sympathetic towards me. He merely laughed as he pulled me in close for a hug.
That hug must’ve been the Wonder Drug because this morning my condition has been upgraded from the Something-Really-Bad-Disease to the Something-Not-Quite-As-Bad-Disease.
It seems as though there is a good possibility that I will survive after all…