A prince among men
"Well, if you need me to take you to the doctor's office, call me back and let me know. Today's a quiet day. I can do it."
"I think I'll be able to manage. Thanks, though."
I hung up the phone and lay back on the couch. Maybe I'd get some sleep. I set an alarm clock, just in case, and closed my eyes. Only to cough. Again. I put another pillow behind my back and pulled the blanket up a little higher.
I looked down when I heard the little interrogative chirp?, knowing it meant only one thing—Edmund warning me that he was about to jump on my chest. I patted my chest and he hopped up, great lumbering tub of lard he is, and snuggled on my chest. He beamed a kitty smile at me and purred, gently flexing his front claws in rhythm with his breathing.
He had his mommycat, and life was good. He closed his eyes. I closed mine. He slept. I didn't. I watched TV, and hoped that something, anything, would lull my mind. I had been so long since I slept well and deeply that I was neither truly awake nor asleep.
About an hour before it was time to go, I realized I was being an idiot. There was no possible way that I was alert or well enough to drive myself cross-town to the doctor's office. I called my spouse and uttered my mea culpa: "Could you drive me? I can make it to your office if you can just get me there, and home again."
I could hear the smile in his voice. "Of course."
"You expected this?"
* * * * *
The answer: a nasty secondary infection. In this instance, bronchitis. Kay confirmed I was having a lot of issues breathing, but I was still moving air through all portions of my lungs, so it had not progressed to pneumonia. She outlined the standard treatment options, then suggested one more outside of the norm: a steroid shot. "This might seem like overkill, but this, plus the inhaler, will open up your lungs while we're waiting on the antibiotic to kill the underlying cause of the breathing problems. You'll get by without it, but I promise you'll feel a lot better a lot sooner if you're okay with taking it."
You will all be pleased to note that I dropped trou right then and there.
On the way out, I handed Jeff my prescriptions and said, "Well, the good news is that I'm not dead." He laughed and confirmed that he suspected as much.
"So, let's go get these filled. Target ok with you?" I nodded.
As we pulled into the parking lot, he asked me between turns what I wanted for dinner. I thought about it for a moment, thought about all the fruits and vegetables I haven't had in the past two weeks because I haven't been able to cook, and realized, contrarily, that there was only one thing I wanted. Comfort food.
"Sushi," I said. "Not something with a ton of California rolls. Something with meat." He nodded, and turned off the car. I handed him the prescriptions. "Is it okay if I stay in the car?"
I closed my eyes. Eventually, he returned, and put bags in the trunk. In the meantime, the sun had set. We had driven to the doctor's office in blinding sunlight, and we drove home in darkness. When we got home, he set the bags on the table, then handed me the one with my medications in it. "I think you'll know which are yours," he said.
I opened up the bags, pulled out my medication, and set it on the counter. I opened the next bag and found my sushi. Smiling, I set that on the counter as well. I opened the third bag and found … manna.
"I didn't even ask for cookies. How did you know?"
"Well, they were actually for me, too."
"Oh, shush. Bask in the compliments when you get them."
Indeed. Knowing you'll likely need a ride to the doctor's office even though you think you're capable of doing it on your own? Picking up medications while you wait in the car? Adding in the exact dinner you wanted and cookies to boot?
A prince among men, indeed.