That statement is pretty much true for everyone in our family. Our children are homeschooled, so they’re not around a bunch of germs all day, every day, and I think that helps to keep Andrea and I from catching every little bug that comes along.
As I’m typing this on Thursday afternoon, I am feeling a little under the weather, but it’s nothing major. It’s just one of those illnesses that makes you want to stay in the bed for a day. Whenever I’m even a little bit sick, I always think back to two sickness events that I classify as “The Big Two.”
The first was several years ago. It was a Friday. I had rushed to get things done at work, because we were taking the kids (three at that time) to the Monster Jam show in Birmingham. I woke up that morning with a bad headache, and things got progressively worse throughout the day.
By the time I arrived at home to pick up the family, I felt like things were probably going to go south quick, but I couldn’t tell the kids that we were skipping monster trucks because I was sick.
Our crew made it to the Birmingham-Jefferson Civic Center without incident. I was actually feeling a little better, but that changed quickly. Once the monster trucks burst into the area, the smell of gasoline mixed with the roaring motors from those big trucks proved to be a lethal combination for my already sensitive stomach.
“I’ll be back — hopefully,” I said to Andrea.
As I walked to the nearest restroom, the sickness came on stronger and stronger. I’ve always prided myself on being able to “will” sickness away, but that wasn’t going to be the case this time.
I’m going to spare any gory details, but I made it to the men’s room just in time.
As I was in the stall, I heard a small child ask, “Timmy, is that you?”
Timmy replied, “No, but somebody is really sick!”
Things were quiet for about 30 seconds before I heard a deep voice say, “Hey buddy, are you all right in there?”
It took everything I had in me, but I was able to respond with a “yeah” that was really much more of a groan than an actual word.
The guy ended up being a security guard who thought I had drank a few too many beers while enjoying watching Grave Digger squash cars. It probably didn’t help my case that I could hardly stand up straight and was stubbling as I headed back to my seat.
When I got to our seats, I didnt even sit down. “Let’s go,” I told the family.
Andrea knew that wasn’t a good sign. I would have to be pretty sick to pull the kids away from monster trucks. The entire drive home, while still feeling sick, I had to hear about how terrible it was that we didn’t stay for the entire show. Superdad had definitely been defeated that night.
My other memory of being terribly sick happened this past Thanksgiving. I called it “Haven’s Revenge,” because I thought my brother had tried to poison me on Thanksgiving night.
All of our family came together at his house near Oakman. We had a dinner that would have made the Pilgrims and the Native Americans jealous. Everything was delicious — maybe too delicious.
I woke up the next morning sicker than the night of “Monster Truck Madness.” I won’t share any details, because it’s just too traumatic to relive.
Maybe I should have just stayed in the bed today. Be well Eagle readers.
James Phillips is editor of the Daily Mountain Eagle. He can be reached at 205-221-2840 or email@example.com.