Just call me Mary. Typhoid Mary, that is.

Yesterday I knew that I was rapidly descending into a miserable illness. It had taken me over. So much so, that at 1:30 pm I couldn’t take it any more. I threw up my hands, clocked out and went home. My beautiful, Jenny fixed me chicken soup and gatorade, and allowed me to slip into a fever induced coma.


Now, after reviewing my symptoms I was relieved to discover that I fall short of having all the requirements for a swine flu diagnosis. Actually, I knew way before leaving work that any type of flu wasn’t what I had.

I’ve managed to work my immune system to nothing before and actually did contract swine flu. It’ll kick your ass like you never thought possible.

This morning Jenny wakes up and apparently I have now infected her. She’s feeling pretty icky in general. I’m the type of person that likes to snuggle at night. Especially, with her. But, in retrospect, I probably should have either slept at the other house or wedged a pillow between us.

I really do feel bad. As I’ve stated before, I’m a bear when I’m sick. So last night a few things rubbed me the wrong way and I wasn’t very pleasant to be around. So, on top of being difficult to share space with, now I’ve contaminated her.

Today, I’m back at the office. I had originally planned to come in, wrap up a few reports, sign any documents that needed authorizing and head back home. Where Jenny and I could lay around in our pj’s, sipping Gatorade and tea while dozing in and out of consciousness.

Instead, I’ve been informed that my 7 hours in the office yesterday seems to have been just long enough to infect the other supervisor. So, while he is at home, wallowing in his own fever induced delirium, I’ll be at work. Again, trying to just make it until 4.

In the meantime my focus has gone from trying to not kill anyone to not infecting anyone else.


Wish me luck. I’m sure I’ll need it. And bless you, Jenny. I’m sorry I can’t fix you chicken soup and Gatorade today.


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