Carl is still quite sick. Temperature hovering around 101.5 all day for the fourth day in a row. His nose is running incessantly and his upper lip looks like it's been sandpapered. He's pale and his eyes are red and he is miserable. He has a few playful moments but for the most part he's just... sick.
Tending to him all day has worn me down. I am worried about how much work I need to get done at work and how it's piling up. I'm trying to keep up with the housework and entertain Elizabeth too. And then have some thoughts of my own? Ha. It's not easy.
I was going to ski today, and go to yoga tomorrow, but I don't see how I can ask anyone to watch my kids when one is so wiped out. So this weekend will exhaust me and I'll return to work on Monday, if I'm lucky, even more tired out than I was when the weekend started.
Yes, I'm complaining here but I know you guys understand. This is the loneliest feeling. And tending to Carl so sick... it's bringing some stuff back for me, too. His forehead is shaped just like Alan's and as I kneel at his bedside in the dark, stroking his forehead and listening to him in such discomfort it brings me right back to those nights at the hospital in the beginning of Alan's sickness, or at Respite House at the end, when I knelt for hours stroking his forehead and listening to him breathe, worrying and wishing him well....
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