Sunday, December 7, 2014

Waging War Against Winter's Beast

Soup vs Virus | Navigating Hectivity by Micki Bare
Gallons of Soup and Juice
The Front Line of Defense Against
Winter's Beast: Virus
Ah, the winter beast. It is not the cold temperatures, nor the snow. It is not the wind, nor the ice. It is the microscopic maniac that goes by the name virus.

Opinions regarding the safety and validity of flu immunizations vary from it's the government's way of injecting us with stupidity to if you don't get inoculated, you'll be responsible for the next plague. 

In my twenties, my body was a revolving door for the flu. I'd get one strain around Christmas and another around Easter. There are several holiday pictures of me in my robe, not because it was early in the day, but because I could barely get out of bed to celebrate.

When my children started getting it now and again, too, I looked into the immunization. But none of us ever fit in the high-risk population categories. Typically, I didn't think about immunizing until the flu vaccines were in high demand and priorities were put in place for who could receive what was left. Over the years, we weathered lots of bouts of flu and other viruses. Then my dad got sick. Suddenly, I fit one of the categories. I had to be immunized, because I was one of his main caregivers. 

That first year during which I did not suffer any strain of any kind of virus was amazing. Of course, when nature wants to attack, it finds a way. The following year, both Hubby and I contracted rotavirus. That was not pleasant. When dehydration set in for me, I saw angels. All I could think after they pumped me full of fluids and sent me back home from the ER was, "At least this will be over in a couple of days. And I'm not achy." When Hubby got it next, he thought he was in a corn field. Back to the ER.

Mother Nature, and Jack Frost, and whoever else might be responsible for these nasty viruses have finally {KNOCK ON WOOD; RUB RABBIT'S FOOT} taken pity on me. I'm too busy taking care of people, like my children, Hubby, and Mom, to be slowed down by an inconsiderate virus partying late with the music turned up in my intestines, head, and musculature. 

While I have not been sick for several years now, my children are still on the receiving end of the hazards of winter's stray mucus droplets. My oldest had a horrible case of the flu last season, which warranted lots of visits from his mother, gallons of soup, and a week living off a couch near the bathroom with a tower of tissues at his side. Although, if the tissue boxes were take-out containers and his mom was not hovering, no one would have noticed much of a difference, I suppose.

Just recently, my youngest son came home from an amazing field trip during which he had a blast trying to garner the attention of a Jumbotron. And then he spent most of the next twelve hours vomiting everything he had ingested over the past month, including the two and half complimentary hotdogs he ate at the stadium. 

Listen up, army of nasty winter germs! I shall no longer tolerate your attacks on my family. The Thanksgiving turkey carcass is going into the stock pot with carrots and herbs, diced onion and lots of garlic. I also purchased a whole chicken. The soups are on. Paired with my homemade biscuits, you don't stand a chance, oh viral enemies.

Micki Bare, mother of three, wife, daughter & writer is the author of Thurston T. Turtle children's books. 
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Copyright 2014 Michele Bare 

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