Sickies to the right of me, sickies to the left of me...

I am surrounded by sickies.

Every single person has become ill but I, who have been slurping Cold-eeze and snorting Zicam with the merest hint of ticklish throat or weepy nostril.

Can't taste a lot or smell completely, but I figure that's a small price to pay for the privilege of feeling well enough to do dishes and other chores for the stricken.

Had to reschedule the other four dental appointments that had been planned for tomorrow. OH the disappointment that washed over the coughing snifflers.

One person is definitely better, several are stuck in pathological limbo and one has actually regressed.

And then there is Loren.

Loren woke up at 6 this morning with a fever. Not high, but definitely a fever. It's since gone down, but Mayo mandates that transplantees see a local doctor at the sign of a fever. After I told the transplant coordinator that he'd had a severe sore throat for four days she said a throat culture was needed.

Loren is really so cute when you take him to the clinic. "What can we do for you today, Mr. Hoyt?"

*pause*

"I'm sick."

Whereupon Ma whips out her neatly typed list of meds and history and drug allergies and adverse reactions and hands it to the nurse.

Bottom line: He's on an antibiotic to prevent things developing into pneumonia. He's also been given a cough syrup for the hacking and told to go to bed.

(I REALLY need to get out the Christmas letter. We're in danger of infringing on next year's...I mean this year's news)

But fear not! There is still something to brighten the day.

Son Jason has given an excellent (if slightly biased) report on the drive to Chicago's O'Hare airport.

Rather amusing.

Now we but wait for Sharon's rendition of the same events.

"Oh, what wild charges were made.
Oh, may not their glory fade..."

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