It’s 9 a.m. Saturday. Brian and I were supposed to be on a 7 a.m. flight to Phoenix today, a combo business conference-reward trip sponsored by one of the insurance carriers he represents. But Brian woke yesterday morning with the flu. Vomiting, 100.2 fever and a full-body ache that has him shuffling like a little old man — that is, on the rare occasion he actually wakes up and rises. I hate seeing him like this. (And I pray I’m not next.)
The last 24 hours have been full of questions and quandaries: Is it just a 12-hour bug or will he be down for days? Do I bother to pack or not? Should I skip the Sex in the City matinee with the girls to stay home with him, even though all he’s doing is sleeping? Does he really mean it when he tells me to go? Am I a bad wife for still wanting to go? All the variables were intertwined, because if we really were still flying to Phoenix at dawn I really didn’t have time to go to the movies. Not only hadn’t I packed, I hadn’t yet done the laundry to enable me to pack. (The last few days had been crazy. And mutually crazy days awaited our return — I’d just as soon skip Phoenix.)
Something told me Brian was not up to travel anytime soon and was in such a sick slumber that he wouldn’t know or care whether I was home or not. So I set him up with a heating pad and tea and went to the movie (loved it, by the way).
Back home, he was still slumbering (but he’d drank some tea at least). I began to do the laundry, even though Brian’s prognosis didn’t look good. He’d stopped vomiting but still ran a high fever. He only managed a few slurps of chicken broth and rice before he fell back to sleep. The next time he woke I said I didn’t think we would be leaving in the morning. “We have to go,” he mumbled. “Do you want me to pack for you?” I asked. He nodded yes before he drifted back into semi-coma sleep, but I ignored it.
By 9 p.m. I declared that we were not setting the alarm for 4 a.m. If he woke on his own (he regularly gets up at this hour sans alarm) and felt close-to-normal, we’d throw some clothes in a bag and catch the flight. I woke at 4:30 and he was sound asleep, so I rolled back over to join him.
And now we are on to the next phase of things being up in the air. How long will his flu last? Should we book seats on today’s 5:30 p.m. flight? Or maybe the Sunday 7 a.m. flight? The trip ends Wednesday morning — at what point does the law of diminishing returns make it not worth going? Brian seems to think we need to get there; I think he should just give up the idea.
I guess we’ll just wait until his fever drops and he can actually stay awake for an entire conversation. If that occurs in time for a couple days in Phoenix we’ll try to get there. Of course, by the time we get to Phoenix it’ll probably be my turn to have this flu.
I hope you decide to stay home. Even if he wakes up and feels well enough to travel, he could slip back into a fever once you get there — or, worse, on the plane.
I was sick with something similar last week, and the fever came and went. Healing and recovery aren’t a steady process.
Anyway, why risk spreading whatever he has to everyone else on the flight and in the Phoenix hotel?
Julie, I hope by now that Brian is turning a corner. You did what was best for all by staying home. Isn’t it funny, though, how when you suddenly have a block of unexpected free-time, you begin to dream of all the ways you’d like to fill it? Then, before you know it, your busy life sneaks in and you’re back where you started, running around wishing you had more time.
I hope you were able to read a few chapters, flip through a magazine, or do something relaxing! You deserve it!
Thanks for the wishes. Brian’s fever broke Saturday midday and he insisted he’d be well enough to travel Sunday morning, despite my objections. So I booked new tickets and packed and set the alarm for 4:30. But when morning came he still wasn’t up to it so we bagged the entire trip, which was an excellent call. We ended up having a nice little quiet recuperative weekend — how sad we needed the flu to make us slow down!