the death plague saga continues

day seven. seven days. seven days of having a sick husband. on day five he was supposed to go to the doctor. his symptoms include fever sweats, achy body, extremely sore throat to the point of being unable to eat the chili i made him because his throat is so raw, lots of mucous, possibly (is this possible?) too much saliva, super tiredness, super laziness, super not leaving the bedness, royally irritating his wife, being super irritable and snapping at everything said wife says and complaining about the massive amount of ricolas ingested.

on day five, his father came over and they had a discussion revolving around the fact that going to the dr is not going to make him better. thanks dude. not only this but others have had similar cold/viruses that have lasted two weeks. so we have another seven + days to go! yay!

on day six, i got home from work to have an actual conversation with my husband. an actual conversation! i've never been so happy! somehow, coughing up the mucous that was so large he gagged on it and spending the entire night hacking in the other room made it so that my husband had rounded the bend and i had him back! sort of. he still snapped at me when i suggested maybe he could go outside.

on day seven (yes today) he sends me a message "So if my mucus i coughed up looks like dijon mustard, is that bad?" of course that's not bad. what makes that bad? when you coughed up blood, that made me nervous. but dijon mustard? oh wait, internet research is telling me that you have tonsil stones. tonsil stones? what is this thing? that is so weird. nope, further research tells me that you are probably getting better.

please pray that we are on our way out of this and that i do not murder my husband.