Thank you all for the well-wishes for my mother-in-law. She had surgery and they were able to insert a rod into the bone to repair it, and it is around about this point in the story when Monkey puts his hands over his ears and says “YOU CAN STOP TALKING ABOUT THIS NOW” because it weirds him out to think about operations and people being fitted with rods. Because we are excellent parents, we assured him that Grammy is just fine, and we will all love her just as much now that she’s a cyborg as we did before.
In the meantime, my poor brother-in-law Nearly Nickless wasn’t feeling so hot, and the LAST time we were at their house, you know, he got a stomach bug which I ended up getting (which landed me in the ER), so I immediately started spritzing myself with hand sanitizer and giving him an extremely wide berth.
It turned out that he had strep throat. Because of course he did! As the excellent house guests we are, we clucked sympathetically, asked him if we could get him anything, and then promptly packed up all of our stuff and left.
(Technically that’s not entirely true. First we went into Boston to visit my mother-in-law at the hospital. She was delighted… except for that whole part about being in the hospital with a broken hip.)
The drive back to New York was uneventful, and there was much potato chip consumption by all involved. My parents were very happy to see us again. The dogs had a wonderful greeting wherein you could see Zoey thinking “OH YAY MY BESTEST FRIEND IS BACK!” and Licorice clearly thought, “OH GOD NOT THIS AGAIN.”
As everyone hugged and kissed and Otto and I unloaded our stuff, Licorice escaped Zoey and promptly darted into a back bedroom and pooped all over the floor. We, of course, didn’t discover this for several hours, which just made it all the more magical. It also earned Licorice a new Care Bear name: Puppy Poopsalot.
My stepmom had dinner ready and waiting for us and my father had the wine ready (have I mentioned how much I like this hotel?), and the evening passed quickly.
Last night I dreamed I had strep throat. In my dream my neck was puffed up so far I couldn’t even turn my head, and when I woke up this morning my hands flew to my neck to check. It’s… still a normal neck. And my throat doesn’t hurt. Just a bad dream.
But when I wandered out into the family room around 7:15 or so, Chickadee was already up. And anyone who has a teenager knows this is a VERY BAD SIGN indeed. “What’s up?” I asked her, trying to stay calm.
“My throat hurts,” she croaked.
Sooooooo it was off to the local Urgent Care clinic, and now Chickie’s on antibiotics, but I’m guessing she feels terrible. This is partly because she has strep, and partly because every time I stop moving she leans into me and then, eventually, ends up in my lap. My deductive powers suggest this is a poor little bunny, indeed.
Bad things come in threes, you know, so when Monkey mentioned that his stomach was hurting, I assumed his appendix has burst. But then he had some lunch and said he felt fine, so I feel like we really dodged a bullet.
Still. I’ll be waiting for number three. Maybe I can whack it with my shoe if I catch it early enough?