The Sick and the Healing

This is the picture of influenza. Phoenix hospitals are full of people - especially elderly - who are ravaged by this naughty strain of influenza. Many of the infected are immunized, but news reports are saying that this year's flu shot is not much effectual.

At our house the tiny creatures which perpetrate this disease seem to drop a load of bricks in one sudden and well aimed move. James, the first victim, after beginning his pummeling a week and half ago, is only now rid of the cough. Aided by breathing treatments he is likely to be the least flattened from the deluge. Joshua, the second casualty, still looks pale and coughs frequently, though he feels much better. Jacob, who appears third on the list, is in bed with a fever again and a new earache, after a whole twenty-four hours of feeling better - six full days since onset. Jason, tied with Jared for fourth place, is full of enough antibiotics to sink (or float?) a battle ship. (That was for your benefit, Elizabeth=) Of course, influenza is viral, but Jason is missing the mechanism that allows his Eustachian tubes to function, making ear drainage impossible. He is recovering well from a profoundly serious double ear infection, secondary to the influenza. He is still coughing a wheezy cough, but is eating normally and also fever free. Jared is undergoing the same fateful perpetuation as Jacob. It reminds me of the stand up punching bags that you knock down only for them to pop back up again. He is also in bed with fever anew. Sadly, I am on the roster too. After forty-eight hours of misery mid-week I am doing much, much better=) Nancy is overcome by nastiness too. Sadly (and sometimes gratingly) she is not coping well emotionally with her physical symptoms. She utterly melts, then spews with greater frequency and regularity than Old Faithful. That leaves Joseph, Josiah and John. When one finds himself well after so many days and in the midst of such obvious contagion, he is tempted to smirk at Ol' Mr. Influenza with smug strutting of soul and body, but The Enemy sends his vast army out to stomp out that false notion. Joseph and Josiah are right now wearing the blush of fever and sporting the wardrobe of the down trodden: multiple blankets to calm the body's involuntary trembling. (I must say that Josiah is a Weeble at heart. Two whole rooms of the house have order now where none existed this morning because of his stout will to kick this illness in the teeth. It is with a salute to his stamina and intestinal fortitude that this parenthetical thought is dedicated.) If you are keeping track John alone is left. I call him the lame wolf because he is surely destined to fall along with his brave comrades, though he staunchly clings to "lone wolf." The poor man is delusional=) I am profoundly and sincerely sorry for him, because, thinking back over the day, I can recall several complaints from him that seem to indicate a certainty of the accuracy with which those diabolical germies can chuck a mass of bricks.