Just Fix It...please!

The first month of the new year isn't over and we have suffered all the trauma we wanted for the year.  Little Brown Dog had to have surgery to repair a torn meniscus and ACL repair (well that's what we would call it if she had a human knee), actually a ruptured cruxiate! Ol' Abner had a serious reaction to Cedar pollen and we found ourselves in the ER on a rainy Tuesday afternoon that extended into an evening thunderstorm. At the time, Dog was still in her cone and could not be left home alone.  She rode with us in the back seat.  When the storm was at it's worst, the ER staff suggested she could come in to the treatment room with Ol' Abner.   That had a calming effect on both of them. Meanwhile I had begun to experience the telltale scratchy throat.  It didn't help that I was soaked to the skin in my journey to the parking to bring dog inside. My umbrella was under the driver's seat, but I was more concerned with getting the leash attached and maneuvering her through the automatic doors with her cone clad head and shaky legs.  By the time we returned safely home, I was miserable.  The hour plus drive down Interstate 35 in pouring rain didn't improve my attitude.  Luckily Ol' Abner and Dog slept most of the way home.  I shed my wet clothes and took a warm shower, then fell into bed. I was not rewarded with immediate peaceful sleep.  I began to cough and couldn't stop...Ol' Abner slept, Dog fretted. It was a long night. By morning, he was much better, I was much worse. That's what marriage is all about, right, alternate misery?  He has spent the last three days bringing me soup and running household errands.  I have barely left my bed except to recline on the sofa.  Today, I feel human again.  I did cook a pot roast sometime in the fog and we had that to eat at intervals for a couple of days, and now he's off to restock the pantry.  At some point I was so determined to be well that I took a long hot shower, then scrubbed down both bathrooms.  A four hour nap afterward, still left me feeling as if I had been hammered about the head and shoulders.  I do NOT tolerate this form of abuse (even if it is imaginary retribution for belittling Ol' Abner's drama).  The stitches have been removed from dog's leg and she no longer must wear the cantankerous cone.  With all our ailments on the mend, the telephone has taken a powder and refuses to connect.  Will this month never end?