Afflicted

Some local friends invited us to a barbecue in Sitges on Saturday.  It was a bit brisk for the beach, but perfect for sitting outside with a glass of wine and sausages cooking on the grill.  I had continued to experience lingering symptoms of whatever it was that knocked me flat at Checkpoint Charlie in Berlin.  For the whole next week I would wake up feeling fine and then, at some point during the afternoon, I would be completely out of gas.  My joints hurt when I walked, I was nauseous, and my head hurt when I moved it too quickly.  I napped nearly every day.

But Saturday I felt better.  I got up, made a tortilla, and off we went. Shortly after we arrived, it became clear that all was not well with C.C.  She curled her long limbs into a ball on my lap and slept most of the afternoon.  When she woke up, she felt a little warm and her cheeks were bright red.  Not surprisingly, she threw up on the way home.

By the time we made it back to our apartment, Alec and I both felt lousy also.  It was all we could do to get the kids to bed and then lie on the couch.  Wisely, Rich left to seek some Saturday night fun of his own.

Then I checked my email.  A note from the school nurse at the kids’ school informed us that a virus called Fifth’s Disease has been going around.  The symptoms?  In children, something called “slapped cheek syndrome,” or very red cheeks; a low fever; tiredness.  In adults, nausea, headache, body ache, exhaustion.  It all sounded a lot like what we had.  Fortunately, Fifth’s Disease is not serious and has no lasting effects (unless you are pregnant).  But if it is what I’ve got, let me go on record as saying I’ve had enough.

We all felt much better on Saturday, but C.C. and elected to take it easy while Alec, Richard, and Milo went to Tibidabo.  The girls read Nancy Drew, had tea and toast, and watched movies.  For better or worse, I had left the tortilla I had made on our kitchen counter on Saturday—it never made it to Sitges, so we got to feast on it on Sunday night, along with canned peas and the last of the carrots.  Somebody needs to get to the market.