So I’d been looking forward to last Saturday for weeks. Representing Hearts with Goals at the RNLI emergency services day and then invited as guests of the Marriott Hotel at the Percy Hedley Rainforest Ball.
I woke up at 4.30 on Saturday morning which isn’t unusual but this time with a pain behind my ear and down my neck as if I’d been shot by an evil Cupid. By the time I got up I had a rash starting up my arms and rising temperature. I managed a couple of hours at the RNLI event and had to leave. By the time I got home after dropping my tombola items with Kelly at Sainsbury’s I knew I wasn’t going to the Rainforest Ball. I’m a walking Mombie 99% of the time. We’ve all seen my beauty routines 😂 familiarise yourself here …….
I love the opportunity to put on a lovely dress and crack out my ‘good makeup’ I get off Shane at Christmas, I even apply with a brush and not be responsible for a few hours. I may just drink tea but I always enjoy myself and these charity events are brilliant for networking. Gutted I was.
I came to bed and stayed there until I rang 111 the next day and they advised me to go to the hospital and get checked over.
Panic 1: I can’t be ill I don’t have time.
Panic 2 : Shane can’t take me to hospital I might be there hours who’s going to watch Reilly.
Panic 3: what if I have to stay in – haha just kidding, not 100% true because a couple of days in my own bed with a telly sounds mighty appealing and almost like a mini spa if I take my coconut foot moisturisers.
I’m in and out in 20 minutes. Huge lymph nodes, rash and temperature = viral infection. I hate it when that happens. I want written proof that I can go to bed when I get home and for a split second I contemplate telling Shane that’s it’s contagious, serious and I should be left in my room alone for at least 7 days and to just slide pitta breads and frys creams under the door.
Being unwell, really unwell not pretendinitis so I can watch Game of Thrones in bed type of ill is really hard when you have a child heavily dependent on you. Reilly likes to know I’m within a metres reach at all times. This child is the hooky bit to my fuzzy Velcro. He’s the hook to my eye. I actually might start calling him Capt Hook. He rubs his nose on my cheek for 90% of the time we are at home, this is no complaint by the way, I love it apart from when I want to go in the bath or for a wee.
He isn’t a fan of me being ill. He commands my atrtention 24/7 and doesn’t give a flyer that I cant lift my head off the pillow as it’s still fair game for him to bounce on. His latest trick this week is to jump off the window ledge holding the roller blind like he’s spider man unravelling it on his way. He’s learned this while spending much of his time in the bedroom with me. Observing almost.
Things I do naturally become a massive chore like when your fingers, toes and knees feel like they’ve been sledgehammered and he wants you to get on the floor to do his jigsaw, it’s hard! Refusing to do it isn’t an option. He can’t tell me so he will pull and pull and scream until I get there. I then cry for 15 minutes trying to get back up.
When your head feels like exploding and you need more sleep but you can’t shut your eyes because you just know he’s going to – take your pick:
- Turn gas on
- Flood bathroom
- Try and pick the locks on the window
- Climb the horizontal blinds
- Push the mac off the table
- Sharpie the walls
- Put shoes down the toilet
- Cook something
- This list is endless.
Funny enough people don’t willingly knock on my door to offer babysitting services for Reilly (no idea why ahem). In the olden days I’d just bundle Things 1 & 2 off to their granny’s for a couple of days so I could get some rest. Not now. Reilly is more than a handful for the strongest of wo/men.
Everyone wants to know when I’ll feel better maybe a little bit out of sympathy but also because me being ill disrupts everyone else’s routines. I can see the little sparkle in their eyes dim a bit when on day 4 I say no I still feel like shit and shall be doing as much lying down as I can for the foreseeable future. You must return straight from work Shane do not pass go and go straight to jail and take over Reilly watch.
So over 2 days the kids have had chippy chips for their dinner, not bothered healthy food ranters, not today – courtesy of Granda and EVERY bit of laundry is done, this hasn’t happened since I had my gall bladder out and I wasn’t in charge! We all know when something’s too creased it goes back in the basket, still clean. We also know that’s where odd socks are temporarily housed until one day they may meet their match on a random wash date. My basket is always half full never half empty. Anyway Grandma has seen to that and put pens in a pot on my window cill, there’s even a tea towel in the kitchen. I’ve not seen one of them for years! Mams of children born around late 60s early 70s type of behaviour.
So shitty week for Christine as the other side of my neck is now hurting and I feel horrendous. Reilly is still dressed as a minion with no intention of changing anytime soon. I’ll be his Gru.