My new life of hypochondria.

Yesterday afternoon I started running a fever.

Let's see...it was Friday and the kids were at school. I put Monkey down for his nap and got some work done. I had exactly twenty minutes before I had to meet R's bus so I settled on the couch for some quality drool time.

I had just barely worked up a dribble when the phone rang. I cursed Alexander Graham Bell for a life-ruiner and went to answer. T's mom was calling to let me know she was at the door.

I rubbed the pillow lines off my face as I opened the door for her.

"You were sleeping? I'm sorry! I came early to bring dinner."

She had not been asked to bring dinner. We were looking forward to the first nice, quiet, solitary Shabbat dinner we've had in AGES. T was coming home early to cook, E was coming home early to eat, the kids would go to bed on time; it was going to be marvelous. I accepted a bag of cooked dill rice, an excellent dish you should all try sometime, and let her into the house.

She lingered until it was time to get R.

I died a little inside.

The day wore on and T got home with J and groceries and we put them away and she started to cook and we talked about the service man who hadn't been any help and our sisters and the kids and camping. I love chatting with her.

I took the kids outside into the sunshine because I was starting to feel cold in the house. We went to the back yard to enjoy their newly positioned clubhouse. I swear all you have to do to win a child over is rearrange their stuff. They think they're getting a new toy.

While they went to play I pulled up a patio chair and sat down and it was when my arm touched the cold metal arms of the chair that I realized something awful was happening. My skin screamed something fierce and I had to run inside for a sweatshirt. I immediately flashed back to my sickbed from a month ago and began mentally planning my next visit to the doctor.

"It wasn't strep! It came back! I must be dying! It's probably foreign. You know I've been in Africa, right? Have you checked for African strep?!"

Then I would be thrown out of the clinic and arrested for public disturbance.

I mean, the vision had its upsides too.

I would get some time off from work, I would get some quality sleep --

And that's when I realized what was wrong with my immune system. Besides the obvious fact that I've eaten nothing but fruit and challah bread since my Wednesday sugar splurge, there's the little known fact that I am averaging about four hours of actual sleep lately.

It's a convenient little mixture of insomnia and not having enough time to get my own stuff done during the day and it's ruining me.

So right after succumbing to the fear of every illness involving fever and a sore throat I could think of, I decided to get a good night's rest. I spent the rest of the day reminding myself that when I have a cold I ALWAYS have a sore throat and it didn't have to mean I have strep again.

Still, I stopped breathing near the kids and made it through the evening.

I went to bed early, with the help of some PM aid and I woke up no less than five times anyway. It was awful.

The fever broke though, so this morning I acknowledged my bed for what it is, and not my deathbed, and went on with my life.

I felt much better in spite of the fitful sleeping. No fever, my throat felt better and so (I am so ashamed to admit this) I think I might be developing seasonal allergies for the first time in my life. I am going to fight it tooth and nail and continue rubbing my face in fistfuls of pollen every chance I get until the allergies learn their lesson.

What made me really think that was that when I closed my window I stopped having throat problems. Curses.

I went cheerily up the stairs this morning, glad that I wasn't contagious or fatal. I fed R breakfast and hung out with her for a bit before T came downstairs.

"J vomited during the night."

Stop everything.

I just barely dodged death last night and now you're telling me there's a virus in this house?!

Oh wait, my boss was still talking.

"It's on his sheets and pillow, I rinsed them and put them in the basket. But it got on R's bedspread. Could you wash that too please?"

You want me to touch an infected item?! This is getting worse by the second. I am already compromised! I can't go into their room and -- I have a job here. I need to get it together.

I said ok and they finished breakfast and then both adults had to work this morning so they left me to finish feeding J and the small one, who was being a jerk this morning. Small One finally ate and went on his way.

I made myself a pancake and sat down to eat it and continue talking with J, who was actually feeding himself for a change. I took maybe three bites of my meal and the next thing I knew J's meal was spurting all over my plate.

The entire table was covered in egg whites and grape juice. The only reason I didn't barf too was that none of his food looked like barf. It looked like food.

I covered it in towels and whisked him off to the bath, because somehow it had gotten in his hair.

He was feverish so I bundled him up and left him on the couch in the living room, far away from the other kids and my poor, helpless immune system.

Thinking only of myself, I disinfected the entire kitchen, the table, the playroom and everything J has touched in the last 24 hours.

I put out the hand sanitizer and began using it every time I had to visit him. Before and after.

I washed the other two kids repeatedly, after every task, between each activity. They have never been so clean.

I spent some time in front of the bathroom mirror, making sure my glands were not swollen (they're weren't) and touching my skin against cold objects to see if it had that feverish repulsion to being cold (it didn't).

T got home before lunch time and I calmly told her J seemed to have a virus and then avoided her and him for hours. Until like, an hour ago.

This evening my throat tickles a bit and I haven't opened any windows all day, so maybe I don't have allergies (thank goodness) and maybe I really do have a cold (boo). But that's all it is. A cold. And it WILL NOT turn into anything else and I WILL not die from something as lame as strep.

I will die in Africa, from something awesome like a lion bite or sky diving in the mountains or rumbling with Kony's army of rebels, making it possible for Ugandan forces to arrest him.

I just took some DayQuil and I am hoping the PM aid I am about to down will counteract the "day" part so I can sleep tonight. It's just after nine but my condition leads me to think I should head to bed soon.

I knew aging again this year would ruin me.

I KNEW IT.