The flu season is upon us and has been for a number of weeks – apparently.
It was only recently that I actually realized how bad the flu season gets, when they one evening announced on the news that more than 35,000 people die from the flu each year.
Damn, perhaps they should focus on a cure for the flu rather than looking at various nuances of the gun law and debate what the 2nd amendment actually means? I’m sure I could win some votes if that was my motto as a politician; “save lives … kill the flu!”
The flu season also brings something else to mind; zombie invasion. It’s a fact now that the Canadian government does not want to become a safe haven for zombies,in the event, but that then raises another question. How would a zombie invasion start?
In short, and this is only my theory of course, the more we inject our bodies with vaccines to fight off e.g. the flu, the weaker our bodies become and the stronger these viruses become. End of the day, the planet will be swept over by a virus … i.e. zombie plague.
Partially because of this far fetched theory (to which my lovely South American flower has another theory of course) we refuse to get the annual flu vaccine. On the contrary, we believe in healthy eating using fresh vegetables and mixed meats.
This year was no different and we kindly refused various offers to get the flu injection. For the first few weeks of the Plague season we luckily escaped winter illnesses like common cold, chesty coughs, strep throat and the dreaded flu.
Then a little over a week ago, the illness threw its dark shadow over our idyllic fresh eating / herbal living family, and infected the youngest hobbit with a nasty cold.
Without going into too much detail, it was a slimy cough that was followed by violent sneezing squirting green slime on me and the walls. At times she would have several Roman numerals underneath her nose, all while smiling.
Half way through the cold cycle, our oldest daughter developed a minor case of the tummy bug. Thankfully she’s getting old enough to wake up and run to the toilet, which normally catches most of these bodily fluids. Some bits lands on the floor as she runs, which is normally the bits that I end up sliding on when running to help her half asleep.
Shortly after this, and just as the midget was getting over her cold, our son developed a nasty tummy bug. One that normally ensures that both ends are in action, and at times simultaneously. In order to keep him safe, we moved him into our bed and took turns waking up to help him vomit. The other end was covered by a diaper.
As he was lying there, feeling miserable, the youngest daughter crawled into my side and curled up against me, while smearing her mucus on my elbow. Suddenly, due to the amount of snot she had been swallowing and the body’s reaction to that amount, she too decided to vomit. Great, vomit x 2!
At this point, we parents are close to exhaustion as we have slept only part time, doing tag team to assist catching bodily fluids. We were running out of clean bed sheets and getting to a point where we debated placing the kids in the tub to sleep – which we obviously decided not to. The scary thing was that we knew that we were next in line.
And true enough. My dear wife caught something that nailed her to the bed for a day. Nothing serious, but enough to drain her energy. The loving husband as I am, I minded the three midgets for a full day alone – yes, men can do house work too and help out with the family!
After all that ordeal, 24 hours had passed with no new case of illness, so I was convinced that I escaped the illness nightmare. I was wrong. Very wrong!
What’s worse, I hate being sick (most people do!!) and when we men get sick we become these helpless drooling shrimps on the bed, quivering and asking for forgiveness. Many of us secretly call out for our mums, to get even more hugs ‘n love and plenty of care.
I’m lucky that my wife care for me a lot and let me pretend that I’m dying, trying to get some needed TLC from her and a chance to sleep all day. She lets me do all that, while looking after the kids. What a woman, eh?
Meanwhile, in the middle of the night, I have to run to the porcelain alter to make a few calls, which is the worst calls ever. Despite the toilet being clean, there’s always a lingering smell and I guess that’s what triggers the long distance calls.
After 24 hours of pure horror and toilet visits my body was starting to recover. Slowly, but surely, I was returning from the living dead, preparing to enter the life I used to have before the man flu hit me. I was missing the kids and craving for food. Even the daily chore of picking up the dog pooh had an appealing ring to it. Anything but lying there waiting for the Plague to take me.
Despite having survived a week of hell, we are still not taking the flu injection. Are you?
Are we actually prepared for the zombie apocalypse? Do we need to stockpile can food and can humans survive on canned dog food? What weapons and supplies should one keep in the basement, just in case?
As all these questions lingers, we need to prepare ourselves for the next case of the cold.