I could not isolate myself from him....and we slept in the same bed with him breathing his virus over me...so within 48 hours I had a temperature and a tight dry cough.
I did not need a test to tell me that I had also got this virus too.
He was as rough as a robbers dog...and barking like one too.
He took to his bed and stayed there for three and a half weeks.
He only got up a few times and he did not stay up very long.
I felt like he was making a career of this invalid lark.
On about the third day he was coughing fit to bust.
I took him some water upstairs...and he drank it, had a coughing fit and promptly spewed it all back up...onto his PJs, the bedding his pillow and me.
What is more he was only going to get back in bed and stew in his spew.
I hoiked him out and told him he had to sit up until I had sorted everything out.
He stripped off his wet things and sat there shivering.
I stripped and remade the bed...gave him some fresh bed-wear and he got back under the covers
I went and put the bedding in on a hot wash and went back upstairs with some cough medicine in hot water.
I sat him on the side of the bed to take it and he flopped back...throwing the hot sticky liquid all over the clean bedding and himself..again he was getting back into bed to lie on this sticky mixture
.
Now bear in mind I was not feeling rosy at this point...so I was a bit terse getting him back out and again changing him and the bedding(at that point I would happily have changed him for an empty pop bottle).
This was another load of washing that I did not have the time or energy for.
I have to say that this virus did not make me ill as such..it just gave me a cough that disrupted my sleep...so I was tired....and My ribs were sore.
I took steam inhalations every few hours and a cocktail of cough mixtures.
I drank plenty...i made soup..chicken and vegetables.
I have had worse episodes of bronchitis.....but my temperature was up for most of the six or seven day that I had the virus.
David would not eat...well a mouthfull of toast does not count as eating...each day I took him soup and light meals but they mostly went in the bin or down the grate outside.
He was drinking very little too.
I tried to explain to him that a lot of his feeling rotten was down to the fact that he was dehydrated and acidotic.
He would not take advice.
I coaxed him at first...then I cajoled him....then I threatened him and told him of the consequences that he could run into.
None of them pleasant.
One day he told me he was dying.
I told him that when I was nursing they told us that the people who had the breath to tell us they were dying, were not the ones we needed to worry about..it was the quiet ones who said nothing and just faded away.
Once my temperature had been consistently down for 48 hours(ten days of isolation) I decided I would go out and do some shopping for fresh food and fruit.
I told himself that if he was still in bed when I came back I would come upstairs and spray him with icy water.
Was he up? Was he heck as like so I went upstairs armed with the spray.
He got out of bed like a 94 year old and slowly, ever so slowly went down stairs.
He stayed downstairs for no more than 30 minutes and them started the journey back to bed.
He got barely half way up when I heard his weak cry....'My legs won't get me up' he said.
I felt exasperated. I told him he had three choices....he could stay where he was..cold and uncomfortable, he could tumble back to the bottom..or he could help me to help him get back upstairs.
I used my shoulder to get behind his haunches and push him upstairs and back to bed.
I could not summon help to get him back to bed as I did not want anyone else to get this virus.
I also have trouble asking for help...it is my nature to be independent
All of this time I was checking his temperature, his oxygen levels and generally keeping a careful eye on him.
Each day I got up, got dressed, washed my hair did the daily chores and some additional ones when he spilled water or juice.
At the end of each day I was whacked but often could not sleep because he was sopping wet through with a night sweat...and the bed needed to be changed and he needed help to go to the loo too.
He kept telling me how weak he felt...I told him it was partly the virus, but also that it was the not eating.He was reminded you can't run a car if you don't put fuel in it.
I told him that was why his legs gave out... that lying in bed for so long had meant he had lost muscle.
Not that any of this made much difference.
He just saw me as a painful nagging witch...making him do things when all he wanted was to lurk in bed.
to be continued
I did not need a test to tell me that I had also got this virus too.
He was as rough as a robbers dog...and barking like one too.
He took to his bed and stayed there for three and a half weeks.
He only got up a few times and he did not stay up very long.
I felt like he was making a career of this invalid lark.
On about the third day he was coughing fit to bust.
I took him some water upstairs...and he drank it, had a coughing fit and promptly spewed it all back up...onto his PJs, the bedding his pillow and me.
What is more he was only going to get back in bed and stew in his spew.
I hoiked him out and told him he had to sit up until I had sorted everything out.
He stripped off his wet things and sat there shivering.
I stripped and remade the bed...gave him some fresh bed-wear and he got back under the covers
I went and put the bedding in on a hot wash and went back upstairs with some cough medicine in hot water.
I sat him on the side of the bed to take it and he flopped back...throwing the hot sticky liquid all over the clean bedding and himself..again he was getting back into bed to lie on this sticky mixture
.
Now bear in mind I was not feeling rosy at this point...so I was a bit terse getting him back out and again changing him and the bedding(at that point I would happily have changed him for an empty pop bottle).
This was another load of washing that I did not have the time or energy for.
I have to say that this virus did not make me ill as such..it just gave me a cough that disrupted my sleep...so I was tired....and My ribs were sore.
I took steam inhalations every few hours and a cocktail of cough mixtures.
I drank plenty...i made soup..chicken and vegetables.
I have had worse episodes of bronchitis.....but my temperature was up for most of the six or seven day that I had the virus.
David would not eat...well a mouthfull of toast does not count as eating...each day I took him soup and light meals but they mostly went in the bin or down the grate outside.
He was drinking very little too.
I tried to explain to him that a lot of his feeling rotten was down to the fact that he was dehydrated and acidotic.
He would not take advice.
I coaxed him at first...then I cajoled him....then I threatened him and told him of the consequences that he could run into.
None of them pleasant.
One day he told me he was dying.
I told him that when I was nursing they told us that the people who had the breath to tell us they were dying, were not the ones we needed to worry about..it was the quiet ones who said nothing and just faded away.
Once my temperature had been consistently down for 48 hours(ten days of isolation) I decided I would go out and do some shopping for fresh food and fruit.
I told himself that if he was still in bed when I came back I would come upstairs and spray him with icy water.
Was he up? Was he heck as like so I went upstairs armed with the spray.
He got out of bed like a 94 year old and slowly, ever so slowly went down stairs.
He stayed downstairs for no more than 30 minutes and them started the journey back to bed.
He got barely half way up when I heard his weak cry....'My legs won't get me up' he said.
I felt exasperated. I told him he had three choices....he could stay where he was..cold and uncomfortable, he could tumble back to the bottom..or he could help me to help him get back upstairs.
I used my shoulder to get behind his haunches and push him upstairs and back to bed.
I could not summon help to get him back to bed as I did not want anyone else to get this virus.
I also have trouble asking for help...it is my nature to be independent
All of this time I was checking his temperature, his oxygen levels and generally keeping a careful eye on him.
Each day I got up, got dressed, washed my hair did the daily chores and some additional ones when he spilled water or juice.
At the end of each day I was whacked but often could not sleep because he was sopping wet through with a night sweat...and the bed needed to be changed and he needed help to go to the loo too.
He kept telling me how weak he felt...I told him it was partly the virus, but also that it was the not eating.He was reminded you can't run a car if you don't put fuel in it.
I told him that was why his legs gave out... that lying in bed for so long had meant he had lost muscle.
Not that any of this made much difference.
He just saw me as a painful nagging witch...making him do things when all he wanted was to lurk in bed.
to be continued