Monday, November 9, 2009


I've been sleeping with a pig. A bona fide pork chop for a bed buddy.

For The Husband has won the aych-one-en-one lottery.

That's right, Dear Reader, my spouse has captured the fabled and famous Swine Flu.

The corresponding histrionics are epic. He sent a text message to all of his loved ones saying that he has swine flu and if it kills him he wanted them to know that he loved 'em. He told me that he wants me to have all his stuff. When we got home from the doctor he sat down at his desk and when I asked what he was doing, he said he was faxing his death notice [the sick note his doctor penned] to his manager at work. He keeps repeating that he's loved having me as his wife and reassuring me that we have plenty of life insurance.

Such a drama queen.

Actually, we were surprised by how cautious the doc was. I'll be sleeping in the guest room. Tomorrow, I have to waste a whole lot of time at the Health Department waiting for an immunization that they will tell me I'm too healthy to necessitate. If it's the needle and not the mist, I'll also have to waste time cleaning up the mascara trails that my belonephobia tears left behind.

Of course, we can engage in no smoochage, etc. The dude's not to go to work for at least a week. No motorcycle. No exercise. My fella has been relegated to the house for the next seven days--stuck lounging around, sleeping, taking medication for the aches, drinking fluids (for no prescription for health would be complete without direction to take in an ocean of fluid), and finding himself much more likely to die from boredom than from any battering that the media star H1N1 can dish out.

This little piggy went to work one day. Then this little piggy got sent home. This little piggy had sniffles. And this little piggy was shunned. So this little piggy was bummed, bummed, bummed that he had to stay home.

He's afflicted with much sniffing, much coughing, high body heat, lots of aching, and snores the volume of which I had no idea could emanate from a human. (Could that be the real reason that I'll be snoozing in the bed Rabid just vacated?)

Poor little piglet.

A related joke I heard from one of my docs last week:
Q: What's the different between bird flu and swine flu?
A: For bird flu you need tweetment and for swine flu you need oinkment.


Haley said...

Have some sympathy for my poor little Marklee! Tell him that I will always love him and if he has to go, I will DEFINITELY be at the funeral.

Megan said...

Good grief, it's not that I don't have sympathy. I just have a terrific sense of humor. Like I like that my husband is ill and I can't fix it.

Jessica said...

boys are such wimps when they're sick. I believe drama queen is the correct terminology.

although, to be fair, my friend had the pigfluenza and she said it was the sickest she's ever been. best of luck to you (oh, and the Husband).

Kalli said...

You need to get on you tube and search out "man cold". Trust me, you won't regret it.

rabidrunner said...

Where's the Soph sleeping? Dogs can get it you know. Just checked the CDC web site. They say dogs and humanoids can pass it to and fro.

Megan said...

Kalli, you're right. I didn't regret it. In fact, I'll post it for all to enjoy. Thanks.

And Rabid, I just went and took the Soph from Mark's side. No more nestling the beast. Thanks for having my dogs best interest in mind. I guess now that you've met her you can see why the small thing is worth saving.

Jaime Stephens said...

I love your thoughts and your writing.. You crack me up... I sure hope you don't get it, because you know women don't get to go into hiding for 7 days when they catch it :-). I think having the husband get it though it worse than you having it..

I really hope though that the husband gets to feeling better, my dad just got over it, it sucked, and thankfully we (mostly my kids) didn't get it, no fun.

whitneyingram said...

After talking to you on the phone while you were waiting at the dr, I later picked up my phone to call back and see what the verdict was. And then I saw his text. And I laughed. And I am going to feel realy bad if something bad happens to him. But it was so definitive him to send a text like that.

Should Ethan and I send a pound of cinnamon?