Competitive, much?

A couple of weeks ago I had the flu. It absolutely flattened me. I ran a fever for five days, which is very unlike me. And, what with this flu season being what it is and my working in the public schools, I wasn't allowed back at work until 24 hours after I stopped running a fever. So, I was out from work, Monday through Friday. Crazy.

I am not the only one who lives in this house. There is a dog, a big ol' chocolate lab who can't catch the flu from me, and a husband; a frenzied, harried, second-year grad student who is anticipating graduation in June but has to jump through the hurdles of a research project, comps, classes, and clinics before he dons cap and gown and walks up to the dean to receive his M.S. A husband who also works part-time. As everyone knows, part-time usually turns into full-time work for part-time pay. We were praying that the flu would skip Jon but, no. And, being Jon, he had to do it one better than me. He is running a higher fever. He started his flu while we were on vacation in Vegas. And, stinker, he's been going to work. At a school. With a fever! Where are the flu police when I need them? He should be in bed, drinking lots of fluids and resting, but is he? Noooooooooo! I lobbied for his taking time off. I pleaded, I cajoled, I scolded. And then I gave up. He's accruing clinic hours at work and he swears he can't give up those hours. I get it, I really do. I went through the exact same program and I know that clinic hours are like gold and not to be taken lightly. But, seriously?

That's my husband: tough guy. Can't just stay at home in bed like his lazy, flu-ridden wife did. Nope, he's got to soldier on and head out to work/clinic/classes. Competitive, much?

Here's my guy in happier, flu-less days. Trying out his stethoscope before a clinical rotation at St. Bernardine's and studying on the back porch.