I am the not-all-that-pleased new recipient of that chest cold that Nanny and Poppy brought home from Colorado, although my mother firmly and sassily denies that they did any such thing. She also refuses to claim any responsibility for the Bologna Virus and we had a spirited debate over these issues this morning on the phone, in between my bouts of coughing. I told her I was going to tell Pat on her. He'll fix 'er.
Yesterday night, I crawled out of bed at about 1:30 a.m., aware that my coughing and my mouth-breathing due to slammed-shut nasal passages was causing my poor husband to not get the night's sleep he needs. I made my way downstairs, burdened with a blankie and some pillows, the ibuprofen and about a sixteenth of an inch of cough syrup, which is all that was left in the bottle after Meelyn and Aisling both had a go at it. I finally fell into a feverish sleep somewhere around 4:30.
By morning, I was burning up, coughing wretchedly and feeling very, very sorry for myself. VERY sorry. But not as sorry as all that, because I knew that once Meelyn was awake, she would be rocky pleased to be sent to the pharmacy with my debit card and a list that included such things as a 50 gallon drum of Robitussin, a pallet of Cold-Eeze lozenges, a thermometer, some muscle rub and a saline water nasal syringe. And some dark chocolate M&Ms, but I don't remember how that got on the list. I must have been delirious.
Shivering, with my blanket all clutched up under my chin, I handed Meelyn the list: "Here, honey," I croaked. "Take the van to CVS. Buy these things. And if you find a doctor loitering around on the premises, bring him or her too. Even if it's, like, a vet."
Meelyn's face lit up and she took the list and the debit card from my trembling fingers. "Okay!" she sang out, grabbing her purse. "I'll be back in twenty minutes or so! I'll call when I get to CVS!"
She danced out of the room but turned back suddenly, her lower lip pushed out. "I'm sorry you're sick, Mommy," she said. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
I looked at her fondly. "Oh, you're doing it, believe me," I said. "THANK YOU."
If I'd known how wonderful it would be for a girl to get her driver's license, I would have installed a motor on her Exer-Saucer, I believe.
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