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On Friday I was awakened at 0300 with a throat on fire and a burning in my soul that no water could quench. Fevers can really be the worst.

I had to cancel daycare for the day and the Littles had to stay home with their beloved parents, back up care was non-existent. Once you tell another Provider you’re not feeling well, you have sealed the nail in the coffin as far as backup care is concerned.

No one is going to take a kid who may be carrying the Plague into their home.

I toyed with the idea that I had strep throat, though my doctor told me to wait until the next day and then see the urgent care clinic on Saturday if it wasn’t any better. I think she personally didn’t want to see me either, she was exposed to the lovely H1N1 flu last year thanks to myself, and a Little who makes friends with too many people.

So began the long four-day weekend from hell. On Saturday the throat fire was gone and I foolishly thought I was over it. I slept all day, went out to the last showing of a movie, and then came home to sleep the sleep of the innocent.

HAHAHAHAHA. No, I didn’t. I woke up every two minutes so I could hack up my lungs and try to piece together if I was a chain smoker in a previous life.

I am now on day five of this and I can’t do anything. I cough, I gasp, I gurgle air into my lungs. Then I repeat. Luckily, the Littles love me and they are trying to keep me alive by playing nicely and not needing to be cuddled.

My lung rattle indicates I may be on my way to death.

If I borrowed anything from you without returning it, now would be the time to ask for it back. Lola said she’s keeping all my shit once I die.

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