Sick, sick, sick

Hart has been sick for a week, really sick. High fever, clammy skin, glazed eyes, no appetite, the whole flu shebang. For 48 hours, he had diarrhea so severe, it required me to change his bedding and hose him down every four hours. So I have been housebound for the week, dutifully and cheerfully nursing him.

Hart is not a gracious patient. His speech has devolved into a collection of screeches, shrieks and wails, presumably all meaning, "I feel really lousy;" "Waaaaah," ("Fetch me some water, slave-girl,") and "Maaaaah," ("Come immediately to witness my distress.") Except when he is completely lucid. "Shut up, you are torturing me!" Hey, what did I do? I am just standing here minding my own business.

Jeff is off this week for spring break. So we are all home. I am taking care of Hart and trying to amuse Jeff and keep him from pestering Hart. It is a lost cause. It's a bonanza for him. Jeff can annoy both of us at once.

Update: Hart was entitled to be cranky. He was admitted to the hospital this morning. He was feverish and dehydrated. Once he was on an IV, his complexion started improving immediately. Although Jeff and I spent many hours at the hospital, his behavior was exemplary under the circumstances. The house is notably quiet this evening.Too quiet.