Nightmares about work. Nightmares about fevers.

So quiet.

He’s up but not really. I can tell by the way he’s walking. 100.6. More coughing. Nothing to do but keep notes and make him drink more water.

Leftover Brussels sprouts and bacon for breakfast. Hot coffee. We agree again that there’s no need to replace the drip pot.

Rain in the forecast. No plans for today. Not that really could be any. With his slight fever and cough, we have to reconsider the light interactions we’ve had going into the grocery store.

This will not sound right in written words, no matter how I put it. But at this point, does it matter?

I tell him to go to the bathroom. The door closes. I hear a loud thud and nothing else. I scream his name. Nothing. I yell his name again and try to push open the door but he’s right behind it. I try again, gently to use the door to push it open, he’s still not saying anything but his eyes are slightly open. Finally, he gets up.

Throwing up.

The nurse on the phone says she has no more appointments for the day but that we need to get him seen somewhere.

We sit in the lobby and wait. Because now you need to make appointments for urgent care but we don’t know that. The urgent care doctor says he sounds fine and there’s no need to bring him up to the second floor. Two conflicting opinions.

I am tired. It’s not sleepless-tired, it’s stress-tried.

She tags me in a post congratulation on 1,000. She remembers the date I sent that newsletter. I must have miscounted a long the way but we’ve done it. We’ve completed 1,000 days of this. I am better for it.