White Dog climbed on top of sleeping Steve and pawed him to wakefulness; he in turn woke me. "What?" I mumbled groggily. "You are burning up!" Steve said as he and WD felt my forehead and sweaty back. Suddenly the entire White Dog Army surrounded the bed and the alarm clock chimed; I buried my head under the blankets to escape the sensory overload.
My throat did feel scratchy and it was sweltering in the room...I leapt up grabbing my calf, "leg cramp!" I gasped as I rocked and massaged my leg. "OK, I am sick," I admitted now fully awake and feeling pretty achy all over.
My throat did feel scratchy and it was sweltering in the room...I leapt up grabbing my calf, "leg cramp!" I gasped as I rocked and massaged my leg. "OK, I am sick," I admitted now fully awake and feeling pretty achy all over.
White Dog started issuing orders as Steve dashed into the kitchen to make hot tea. "Nuka, sit on momma's feet to keep them warm! Yo go tell dad she needs water, lots of liquids so she doesn't dehydrate! Puff, make sure we have a warm afghan to wrap her in on her chair! Somebody wake the California boy, Quinn!"
"Whoa, everyone," I said. "I appreciate everyone rushing to take care of me but it is just a little bug, I'll be fin..." I suddenly rushed from the room. Our bathroom is tiny, certainly not large enough to hold a medical convention of Eskies discussing my health, but yet, here we were, all six of us...seven once Steve joined the fray.
"I have to take Michael to that testing appointment this afternoon," he said, "so I just called in to tell the office that I would be out ALL day instead of just this afternoon. Now we can all take care of you!" I smiled my genuine thanks but really just wanted to sleep.
After a light breakfast, eaten tucked under a blanket with SAWD anchoring one side and YAWD laying against my other, WD curled up on the arm of my chair and demanded everyone be silent. All day my every need, and then some, has been met by my attentive staff of caregivers. My every move has been monitored and fever charted and bathroom visit noted.
My boy, Quinn, had the best suggestion after dinner: "Momma needs ice cream; it cures everything!" WD and Steve dashed off to the store and returned with...I am feeling better already...pistachio almond, which of course we all shared. It was the perfect healing mojo. I am still achy but I feel safe and loved and very very special.