An Open Letter to H1N1

I blame my four year old.
It's all her fault...or possibly that of her immune system. Because when it came to my own, I didn't stand a chance.  After the two week craziness of my dad's passing, planning a funeral, planning Christmas, and leaving for a week long vacation (read: packing for 6 people)... I guess I just had it coming.
I never get sick.  N E V E R.  Ever. But in true form and sticking with tradition, some one in our family must get sick at Christmastime.  We all remember the croup of '11...and who could forget the puking fiasco of '09?  This year was no different...I just never imagined it would be ME of all people....in the middle of our ski trip, no less.
Well, it's been two and half weeks, and besides a nagging bruised rib, a non-stop cough, hot flashes, and fatigue, I can say I'm done with it.  But I sure do have a bone to pick with Mr. H1N1.

You listening, flu scum?
First of all, I blame you and only you for the loss and utter abandonment of my beloved sweet tooth.  Sweets made my day...my life.  They were my happy place.  But ever since you invaded my system, I have absolutely no desire for anything sugar-related.  And you couldn't leave it at that.  No, of course not.  You took it a step further and facilitated a gag reflex at the first sign of sweetness.  That oatmeal Blake made me this morning?  Couldn't eat it.  And believe me, I tried my darnedest.  Out of desperation, I even attempted downing a few gummy bears...to no satisfaction.  My only shining mercy is that I can handle my precious Diet Dr. Pepper.  It doesn't sound or taste good to me right now...but at least there's hope.  Thanks for that leniency.  (sarcasm if you didn't catch it)
Moving on.  My poor husband.  Good grief, you couldn't just let me be kinda sick.  No....you wanted to scare the crap out of him so that he'd threaten to take me to the ER.  Playing with people's emotions....pathetic....the lowest of low.  I mean, who do you think you are?  You owe him a BIG apology...and lots of good health for years to come.
Furthermore, there's the issue of my violent coughing.  Or incontinence, if I must be graphically specific.  Not only did you inflict a bruised rib I'm reminded of at every deep breath or cough...but you caused my body to revert back to post-delivery days when I couldn't keep it in.  I've had to change my clothes no less than five times in the last three days, thanks to you.  A fact I'm not proud of...nor should you be.  Despicable.  My children think it's hilarious, which is just peachy because what else am I here for if not solely for their amusement?
In conclusion, I want you to know that I've learned several valuable lessons throughout this adversity (get a flu shot, vicodin and steroids work wonders, cross your legs when you cough, etc.), but I'll never be able to get back the past few weeks...or my bladder's integrity for that matter.  My instincts tell me you're in cohorts with the people at the minor emergency center....it's obvious to everyone, you know.  I smell a conspiracy, and I'm warning you...it better stop now before more sick-of-being-sick mommas and tired, disgruntled husbands hunt you down and ruin you for all its worth.  If I never hear your name again, it'll be too soon.
You've been warned. I'd start running if I were you.

Signed, The Mrs. & The Momma
Follow me on:  Instagram|Twitter|Facebook|Pinterest|Bloglovin