Last night my son asked me if I had tuberculosis.
He was reading a book entitled Why You Wouldn't Want to Live in the Wild West (or something like that) and it had a whole page on diseases.
So he has evaluated my symptoms of the last two weeks and decided that yes, I have tuberculosis.
He might be right.
This morning when he gave me a good morning hug he told me to go take my temperature because I felt hot. "Even your hands, Mom," he told me.
And my temperature was 100.2 degrees.
Do I have a future doctor on my hands?
These last couple of weeks have sucked because I've spent the majority of them either hacking up a lung or asleep. But a lot has gone on 'round the ol' Tuna homestead. Now if only I could stop barking like a seal for a few minutes to sort it all out.
By the way, I am weeks behind on my e-mails, and some of you have sent me some wonderful ones. I appreciate your kind thoughts more than you could ever know and I will answer your e-mails soon! (Even yours, Honey.)