My Easter with ‘Harry’ the Hand, Foot and Mouth Disease and the Exit of ‘Marilyn’ Mastitis

Well, Easter has been and gone… Ok, 6 months ago. I thought I’d share with you one of the first pieces of writing I did that I sought approval for from friends. I was suffering through a bout of mastitis (let’s all clutch our breasts in sympathy), which was cruelly topped off by the most heinous case of Hand, Foot and Mouth Disease. Not Foot and Mouth disease. I’m not a bovine. I’m talking Hands, Feet, AND Mouth. There’s a reason it’s called a disease. Not just a lowly infection. The worst thing I’ve ever suffered through. I was feeling so sorry for myself that I wrote about it. I even named the horrid things. I was clearly bored. Then I sent it to friends. I thought it was funny. I’m not sure if they really did or they just felt really sorry for me and my demise. It’s an actual blow-by-blow account of how my day progressed. Here ’tis.

Easter Saturday evening. Thought about scraping the skin off my hands and feet with a cheese grater. Took a phenergan tablet. Took two panadol. Waited. Expected some drug-induced sleep. Nothing.
Thought about my natural stance in life. Got annoyed that I couldn’t hack the pain. Wondered if I had become a drug addict so quickly. Took another phenergan tablet.
Tried breathing to counter the itching and pain. Got annoyed at breathing. Felt sorry for myself. Again.
Used flashlight to inspect blisters in mouth. Inspected my hands. Again. Inspected my feet. Again. Cried tears of frustration. Cried out to God. Remembered to thank God for my blessings. Thought of dying children. Hoped God would forgive my selfishness. Remembered my husband saying “think of the dying children” when I said I felt like I was dying the previous day. Wanted to punch husband. Thought again of dying children. Felt sad. Felt guilty. Prayed the baby doesn’t get it.
Tried to rock the baby to sleep. Changed her nappy. Fed her. Tried to rock her to sleep. Again. Tried to simultaneously scratch my feet on the carpet while rocking her. Felt frustrated with her. Squeezed her a bit too hard. Felt like a child abuser. Gave her to husband. Spoke a bit too harshly to him. Felt bad. Felt angry. Layed in bed. Scratched continuously at feet and hands. Felt like a leper.
Woke up. Realised I had slept for a period. Felt overjoyed. Fed baby. Realised the pain in my breast had gone. Felt like a natural superwoman! Remembered the phenergan and panadol. Disregarded the phenergan and panadol.
Inspected my hands and feet. Noticed the blisters had worsened. Felt sorry for myself. Again. Dwelled in my pity party. Scratched hands and feet. Realised I wasn’t too itchy to sleep. Went back to sleep.
Woke up. Realised husband had taken the baby downstairs. Felt grateful. Wondered how long the blisters will last. Went back to sleep again.
Woke up. Hobbled downstairs. Ate delicious food husband made for me. Contemplated how my life would be if I had a crap husband. Felt sorry for women with crap husbands.
Thought about Easter. Realised I hadn’t eaten any chocolate. Didn’t care. Layed on the bed and watched husband play with baby. Watched them both smile. Smiled inside and out.
Tried to change baby’s nappy. Fingers hurt too much. Managed to take the hair tie out of my hair. Marvelled at the ability of my hair to stay in the same matted state sans hair tie. Brushed hair with great difficulty.
Tried to squeeze toothpaste onto my toothbrush without using my fingers. Had my husband offer me help. Felt like an invalid. Contemplated how I would wash my hair. Contemplated whether tea tree shampoo would help with blisters.
Had a shower. Thought about everything I should be thankful for. Felt better about not having been thankful.
Thought about writing an account of today’s mundane events. Realised I can’t hold a pencil. Wondered whether my hands would be too blistered to type on my phone. Inspected hands. Again. Took photos of hands. And feet. Had my husband ask me why there are no blisters around my mouth. Had husband infer that it might not be Hand Foot and Mouth disease. Looked at husband. Blinked. Asked him whether he is an idiot. Didn’t expect a response.
Watched the news. Saw the same stuff about Easter and the Royals. Thought about the kid yesterday giving the Pope a packet of twisties. Laughed.
Inspected my feet. Inspected my hands. Found a blister on my lip. Asked husband if that would satisfy him.