This is what really matters

Last night I was feeling pretty sorry for myself.  My throat was sore, my ears were in pain and I felt like my glands were the size of melons. I often make excuses for the size of my face but this time I was convinced it was my glands. They were overtaking my face and everything was sore

I climbed into bed after complaining loudly and at length to my husband that I possibly had man flu and it wasn’t fair because we’re going away tomorrow and now I was sick. I planned a big sleep in for today. I was going to pamper myself by sleeping all day and getting rid of this dreaded lurgy.

Then my son woke up.

He usually wakes up and dives straight into his x-box, er I mean into reading the encyclopaedia, but this morning he woke up and complained that his throat was sore. The worst part is that it actually seemed sincere and there was no way I could pretend it wasn’t happening.

So I readjusted the day in my head. If my son was sick then we could be sick together and we would lie on the couch, watch TV and eat chocolate, er, I mean vegetable soup.

I tried to hide my annoyance at him and I think  it worked because when my sister phoned in the morning I did not bite her head off – which in my family counts as a good mood.  Her news wasn’t as good. My mum had had a bit of a faint/fall last night.

I wont go into details here because that’s my mother’s story to tell but I can tell you that it meant that there was no lazing about in bed for anyone today. Well my mum “lazed” about in bed but the beds in the emergency department of the hospital aren’t that comfortable.
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It’s funny what they say about the best laid plans and all that.

As I drove my mum from the doctor to the hospital I didn’t even notice that I had glands, let alone that they were sore. As I dropped my son at his cousin so that I could spend the day at the hospital he never even mentioned his sore throat.

And so I spent the day sitting with my sister next to my mum’s bed. And as it turns out it was far better medicine for me than a day in my own bed.

I felt so absolutely lucky that I did not have to be anywhere else today but with my mother. There was nowhere else I wanted to be and nowhere else I had to be. Up until fairly recently I didn’t have time. Or maybe I didn’t make time for the right things.

Today I am glad that I have the time for my family. Because at the end of the day that’s all that really matters.

PS. My mum is making a very good recovery and she’s probably reading this and about to shout at me that if I wasn’t feeling well then I should have gone home to bed.