so here i sit with a cold that appears to be moving me into a familiar upper respiratory hell. breathing is challenging, and i’m probably working my way toward pneumoniaville thanks to my monday with jools.

how do people do it? what i mean to say is how do people with immune systems like mine manage to stay afloat with young children? these walking petri dishes of love, these little people who use your hand as a tissue, who cough in your general direction, who spew contagion of every type at every turn. how can i refuse that little face when it so sweetly smooshes a cheek next to mine?

i can’t.

and yet now, i am battling an awful cold, something which qualifies as a nuisance for most normal people. for me, though, it’s frought with angst. i ponder the all-too-familiar what ifs: what if i get an infection from this, what if antibiotics don’t cut it when i develop that infection, what if its the infection to end all infections? i try not to think about that too much; it makes me sound like a complete and utter hysteric. i mean, fer crying out loud: it’s just a fucking cold.

and i just had my IVIG last week, so one would think i would be in fighting form. if this is fighting form, though, i shudder to think about what my 98-pound weakling self would do with this germfest.

so i wonder: is it more important for me to be healthy, yet distant from my children? or is it better for me to behave as any other normal parent would behave: taking care of children while they’re sick, pouring love and affection into them to help them feel better, at the peril of my own health? i always opt for the latter.

i hope it doesn’t kill me someday.