Monday, November 17, 2014

The Plague House (with apologies to T. S. Elliot)

We are the plague house
We are the coughing house
Sick together
Lungs filled with goo. Alas!
Our hoarse voices, when
We croak together
Are husky and painful
As a rasp on metal
Or sandpaper over skin
In our sick home

Everyone here is sick with one sort of distress or another. Sore throats. Coughs. Constricted chests. Laryngitis. And yes, even vomit. Do not come and visit. Save yourselves. The worst of it? H. has come down with her own version of it and that explains the low grade fever I was concerned about over the weekend. I've talked to the nurse and we're just going to keep an eye on her for right now. It also means we won't be doing the first expansion tomorrow. I had forgotten that they don't expand when a child is even remotely under the weather. Poor H. She is truly miserable. 

I'll now go back and try to read aloud with my croaky throat. I suggest when you finish reading this that you wipe down any surfaces with disinfectant. Just to be safe.

No comments:

Related Posts with Thumbnails
Pin It