Planes and Plagues

Husbands are good for a few things* and getting their wives sick is one of them. A few weeks ago Jason brought home a lovely virus and kindly shared it with me. But not only did that boy give me his germs, he gave them to me just as we were about to leave for Mississippi to visit my grandparents. His perfect timing amazes me. He very rarely gets ill but when he does it’s inevitably right before we are scheduled to go on a trip. How does he do it?

My body is tough and usually does a truly fantastic job of fighting off bugs but because I was wrestling with this infection as I was hopping airplanes and keeping unusual schedules it got a good hold on me. Luckily, while I was at my grandparents’ it was still gathering momentum so I felt relatively decent during our stay. My voice became little more than a squeak as I struggled to speak loudly for the hard of hearing and at night I had a constant itch in my throat that made sleeping a hopeless task but that was the extent of my symptoms until the day we were leaving the South. That’s when our short plane ride made my little menace unmanageable.

Since I was starting to feel congested the day of our return trip, I took some decongestant before we boarded our jet as a precautionary measure. My preventative efforts didn’t prevent much. Our direct flight was only three hours long but it felt never-ending as I was simultaneously plugged up and running everywhere. My sinuses stubbornly refused to respond to the change in air pressure and their unrelieved blockage gave me the strange and uncomfortable sensation that someone was sitting on top of my head. I was not alone in my suffering; practically everyone on the plane seemed to be in no better shape. There were orphaned tissues lying in the isle and many passengers seemed to be undertaking an unspoken coughing competition. There are few things worse than sitting next to someone on a flight that coughs in your face the whole time so I refused to join the ranks of the rude hackers. With some concentrated efforts I stifled all of my coughs and sneezes throughout the ride, which didn’t exactly add to my feelings of wellbeing.

My dignity and politeness lasted through the flight but by the time I got home the snot gates had opened wide. At that point I was beyond completely miserable and I literally had a steady stream of watery mucus shooting out of my nose. I wish I could say that becoming a booger geyser was the low point of my sickness and that things just improved from there but alas, that was not the case. It took two more weeks, and many nights of sporadic sleeping mingled with coughing spells, for me to fully recover.

The moral of this story? Planes and respiratory infections do not go together well and apparently husbands and restful trips don’t either.

By the way, Jason got better just as I was starting to get sick so he was in excellent shape for our trip. Good for him.

*I fully acknowledge that husbands are also good for opening jars, reaching high shelves, killing spiders, fixing computers, tying snowboarding boots, and carrying heavy groceries.