Yesterday was a quiet day with snow sifting down hour after hour. It appears we got about a foot of new powder. Schools were closed across the North Country.
Lucy curled in a comfy chair with her L.L. Bean fleece throw wrapped around her, knitting, while I sorted medical bills. Both she and DH are coughing with sore throats and head colds.
DH sounded froggy but of course went to work anyway. He has missed work for illness about three times in thirty years. He is an extremely dedicated (read: bullheaded) man. Four years ago I dragged him to the Emergency Room when he spiked a very high fever, post-surgery, and was shaking uncontrollably with chills. Within an hour of being disconnected from the I.V. antibiotic drip, he was back at work to lead a two-day board meeting. Rest is, for him, a tough concept. Yesterday his only concession to feeling sick was to take a short nap before supper.
He and Lucy have two big cross-country ski races coming up. This weekend is the Loppet, a 25-kilometer (fifteen and a half miles) ski with 1800 feet of climbing. Next weekend is the Canadian Ski Marathon, where father and daughter will be part of a group of friends attempting to ski 100 kilometers over two days. In both events, the goal is not so much to race as simply to finish. But obviously a streaming head cold won’t add to the experience.
I am trying to provide nourishing food, Vitamin C, meds, and throat lozenges, and to get them both in bed early. Yesterday, in between coughing and blowing her nose, Lucy polished off six clementines over the course of the day. “Well,” she said, “at least I won’t get scurvy!”