There’s something in the air here, by which I mean our home — possibly Covid. Crankenstein’s only tested herself once so far, when she first fell ill on Wednesday, and it was negative. In the days since she has hacked almost nonstop, slept a lot, and gone through a couple boxes of tissues. Though she’s not taken her temperature, I’m pretty sure she was febrile last night.
During other illnesses over the last four years, she was paranoid about getting me sick. This time, as if to prove that ‘Niles’ is less of an issue following another few incidents (again involving Muriel and weeds), she decided to throw caution, and germs, to the wind, and stopped covering her mouth when coughing and sneezing around me, even after announcing earlier today that she couldn’t smell or taste much of anything.
“You’re already exposed,” she said dismissively in response to a complaint on Thursday, and I’ll take responsibility for my illness if I get sick, but I’m also puzzled.* Crankenstein wouldn’t be pleased if I coughed in her face even once, much less for several days, regardless of previous exposure. And I wouldn’t expect her to be fine with it, because one of the very first things we’re taught in preschool is to (try to) keep our germs to ourselves.
I’ll survive a cold or Covid, and I’m pleased for Crankenstein that she isn’t fixating on her symptoms, which really is a sign of progress. My irritation is that this overcorrection was again more focused on ‘Niles’ (this time, proof of its vanquishment) than our household’s realities. When Crankenstein is sick, she can easily control her hydration; I can’t. And her immune system clears infections normally (so far — knock wood), while mine sometimes acts like Rambo on cocaine, wildly emptying an M60 machine gun even after its target is dead.
Surely there’s a happy medium between hardcore health anxiety and liberally spraying your spouse with possible coronavirus, and we’ll aim for that next time around. In the meantime, I woke up this morning with swollen lymph nodes and a scratchy throat. We’ll see what happens tomorrow, but if I get sick right as Crankenstein starts feeling better, maybe I’ll test her progress by snuggling up close to her and coughing with reckless abandon.
* We were at a standstill over sleeping arrangements because she refuses to stay in the guest bedroom and won’t bunk with Muriel. I’m normally fine with either of those options but my neck, shoulder, and sleep are currently bad enough without crashing on mattresses that’ll only make things worse. Which reminds me, I need to stop dithering and finally buy a new mattress for the guest room.
** This is technically not a footnote, but I made a mistake last night I need to address. A bunch of mistakes, really (there was much to edit this morning), but this was the most glaring: it was an urgent care NP who stupidly sent our nephew home, just in case the part about failing to summon an ambulance was confusing.