I have had flu and a high fever for the last three days. I am miserable. Last night I woke up at midnight shaking with chills and sat in a chair for two hours wrapped in blankets until I warmed up. When I do barn chores morning and evening I take breaks to sit in the truck whenever I feel lightheaded.
In one sense I do not mind. This is life. Pa Ingalls did his chores no matter how rotten he was feeling. However it is hard to have this bug at Christmas time, when I am the family’s Christmas engineer.
We were going to drive to Boston yesterday to see Jon. I am far too sick. It was terrible to have disappoint everyone.
DH and Lucy, who are recovering from the same flu, are trying to help. Lucy made dinner two nights and DH bought frozen pizza for last night. The two of them took charge and we finally got our tree decorated yesterday. (I had bought the tree ten days ago, just as they fell sick, and it had sat on our porch, waiting.) But tonight is Christmas Eve and even if we skip church — we will have to skip church — there is still a list of things to be done for the holiday.
I love Christmas and have planned for it for weeks. I hate having it wrecked by flu. Between bouts of coughing I just want to cry.
I know this is very silly, considering all the struggles and sadness in the world. It must be the fever.