Yep, it’s that time of year again and I do not mean football season. People all around me have been dropping like flies with flu, Covid-19, sinus infections and various other upper respiratory ailments. Several friends at church and around town have been diagnosed with Covid (again).

It seems like every few months a ‘new’ variant comes along and everyone goes into panic-mode. I find myself trying to avoid them without seeming to be uncaring. However, I don’t want anything to do with sickness especially since I am planning a girls-only trip to the coast soon.

Well, last Friday (it’s always a weekend when it happens, right?) my dear Teddy-bear came to me with a scrunched up expression and remarked that his throat hurt. He was speaking normally at the time so I didn’t get too worried. I gave him some cough drops and an allergy pill. But Saturday morning he was much worse with fever and a painful, hacking cough accompanied with uncomfortable post-nasal drip. Now, he wasn’t necessarily speaking in complete sentences, mostly moaning and beginning to whine the way only a sick man can. I saw his body clock turning back to that of a 5 year old.

All day and into the evening, I followed a trail of pillows and blankets to the couch then each bedroom as he tried to find a comfortable place to lie. If we had a two story house, I’m sure he would have at some point laid on the stairs.

I took his temperature at several intervals on Saturday and yes, he had a low-grade fever and also a worsening mood. I asked if he wanted to go to Urgent Care but he snarled at that, so, off I went to get cough syrup, antihistamines, hot tea; anything to sooth my normally calm, sweet husband who was now regressing into the likeness of a bear woken from his winter slumber.

On Sunday I finally got him to take a Covid test and the result was negative, but you never know with those home tests, so I got him an appointment with our regular doctor for early Monday. Throughout the entire weekend his fever went up and his mood and speech patterns went down, until all I was getting were growls and grunts from underneath mounds of blankets where not even a toe or finger was visible.

I got him into suitable clothes and we headed to the doctor’s office, checked in and looked around for a seat. Now, this is a big office with several physicians and PA’s on hand, but every chair was filled with coughing, hacking, red-faced people, blowing their noses and wiping watery eyes. Finally I got us settled and then we waited…thirty minutes, then an hour. Teddy, a limp bundle, fell asleep in the chair and I was careful that he didn’t simply slide out and lay on the floor.

Don’t tell me it isn’t cold, flu, and Covid season. I know sick people when I see them and they were everywhere. I felt so bad for everyone there. It must have been a bad weekend for half the county. I was ready to just take Teddy to the emergency room when the nurse finally called his name. Waking him up caused more snorts and growls as I got him down the hallway and helped her get him weighed and his vitals taken. I kept assuring her he was really a very nice person under normal conditions. She just smiled and nodded knowingly.

The doctor, who is a young, sweet, very competent medical professional was shocked when she saw him as he is usually hale and hearty and cracking jokes. After an examination, she declared that he had a bad sinus infection and severe inflammation in his ears and throat. She prescribed an antibiotic and a steroid pack. Then she told the nurse to give him two shots of said medications in his butt.

We came home and he instantly went to bed and fell asleep. I was quite relieved. But unfortunately, my relief was short lived. The next morning, Tuesday, my sick husband, who just the day before had declared he was on death’s door, was up and going again, almost as if nothing had happened.

I tried to explain that no miracle had taken place, he was not truly recovered and he must continue taking the medications. Instead he declared he was much better and he scurried around the house emptying trash cans before the weekly trash truck came. He then marched off to the church to pick up trash along the road there. Not wanting to harass him, but sure he was still sick, I said okay and then waited patiently by the phone until, sure enough, he called about twenty minutes later and asked that I come get him.

Now, this is a cautionary tale my friends. If you are sick, take your medicine and do what the doctor says until you are completely well. Let us not forget the word ‘relapse’. With so many variants of Covid and flu, as well as the continual allergies and sinus difficulties we, who live in the Deep South struggle with, it is not wise to tempt fate and declare that you know better than your doctor.

Teddy is fortunate that it wasn’t worse. Truthfully, he has always been better taking care of others than he has himself. But it is a good thing he recovered when he did because I’m still going on that girls-only trip soon.

I’ll have an update for you on that next month! And none of us had better get sick!