I get peculiar when I’m sick.
Well… more peculiar. Differently peculiar.
Last Thursday, I did a great five-mile jog. The day was windy and cold and jogging felt great. When I hit the halfway point and had to turn around, it felt a bit less great as I jogged back into the wind. It felt less great still when the wind bit into my throat with icy teeth.
I got home certain I’d probably catch a chill and the inevitable cold.
I was right.
By Friday, I was feeling sick and I was sick all through the weekend. Vicky did what she usually does: tried to get me to lie down and offered to get me fluids. But there’s one thing I need when I’m sick that she isn’t too keen on. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t want to get sick, too.
The one thing I need… is hugs.
Lots of hugs.
I just want to be held tight, especially when I feel as I did the other day with body aches and pains. I just want to be held and kissed and told it’s going to be all right.
Basically, I turn into a big baby. I won’t deny it. That’s okay. Vicky does, too. And when she does, she turns into the grumpy kind of baby who just wants to be left alone. And there we are. Two different types of sickos: the love bug and the grumpy bear.
Somehow, we’ll have to work on this…