During the 1918 flu pandemic, little girls would jump rope to this grim ditty:
I had a little bird
His name was Enza
I opened up the window
And in flew Enza
Well, it's landed here.
Tim and Dave are sick, sick. I am nursing Ainsley wearing a mask. (If you want to be aware of how often you kiss your babies, just put on a mask.)
I rolled out of bed this morning and asked Tim how he was feeling.
"Sick," he said. "Let's just leave it at that."
In the midst of it all, I am grateful for doctors who take good care of us and supply us with samples. For friends who run to the grocery store. For Tamiflu (even if it is $86.00). For my sisters Kate and Karen who call and chat and don't tell my Dad we have H1N1 in the house. For Ainsley who is, without a doubt, the easiest baby woman ever birthed. For the good health that we usually enjoy.
May I offer up this short-term inconvenience for the many, many people who are chronically ill, most especially my Mom.