It was 1:00 AM. I woke up, shivering, in a cold sweat. Something wasn’t right. I got up to go to the bathroom, and then the shaking really started. My head hurt, and I was cold, yet hot.
“Oh no!” I thought. “I have what the kids had!”
Every mom picks up bugs from their kids sometimes, and every mom knows she’s not allowed to be sick, . . . ever. If mom gets sick, then who takes care of everyone else?
Hopefully every mom has an amazing husband, and obedient children, who pick up the slack when she’s not well. But most moms want to do as much as possible, even when they are sick, precisely because they want it done ‘right’.
My dread at being ‘under the weather’ was more than just not wanting to let my family down, though. I was on new chemotherapy drugs, which suppress my immune system, and knew that it could be bad if I got sick. I rationalized that my kids’ ailment only lasted for two days, and so, with any luck, I wouldn’t be down for long.
On day two, after a constant cycle of chills, fever, vomiting, and blacking out, when my temperature reached 104.5, we decided to call my oncologist, even though we knew what she would say. Sure enough, she wanted me to go the emergency room. Even then, Branden and I debated if that was really necessary.
Lab tests showed that I had an infection in my body. I got some IV antibiotics, and was sent home with oral antibiotics. We had done the right thing, now I just had to wait to get better.
Two days later I was still chilling and spiking high fevers. Branden called the doctor again, and she summoned me to Huntsman Cancer Hospital to be admitted. By then, the cultures from my emergency room visit revealed that the infection was in my kidneys and blood. I was septic. This was definitely not what my kids had. I was now in a fairly serious medical condition.
I spent four days in the hospital battling fevers, migraines, stomachaches, and more. After feeling well for so long, this was miserable. My mother-in-law and Branden made sure things ran smoothly at home, while I lay in the hospital, sick, sick of being sick, and lonely.
A few years ago, when I was in chemo, I became quite ill, and was hospitalized for nearly a month. Those memories came flooding back, from the uncomfortable bed, to the view from my window, and the smell of the hospital. Mostly though, I felt sad. I knew I would be home soon, but I missed my family terribly. I reflected on the uncertainty we have in life, and knew I wasn’t in complete control of my health, no matter how much I ran, or ate the right foods.
I began to improve, and knew I would go home shortly, so I reflected on what I should learn from my sick week. At the hospital, I didn’t have the clothes, bed, food, or slippers I wanted, but that wasn’t what mattered. What stung was that I was robbed of time with my family.
There is no thing, accomplishment, or experience that can take the place of the ones I love. This summer I will value the happy time I have with my children home from school. I will play with them, snuggle, be more patient, and appreciate them more. I will never forget that family is my greatest treasure, and there really is no place like home!