Thank you, Thor!

One meclazine later, the promise of miso with ginger SOON has cheered me greatly. I can now move my head on the pillow without freaking out. Rook has taken our sprightly young sprog to the store.

I said something to him about barfing up all that soup all night long and now being unwilling to eat chicken soup. "I know," he said, sounding traumatized. "I was cleaning it out of... out of the..." "Um, okay. Stop. I know." I forgive him for not being the perfect Army Nurse... I mean... I would have just thrown those towels into the washer and dumped in a lot of bleach. Apparently he tried to clean the sick out of them first. I feel rather humbled...

Foooooood... I nibbled a saltine... very slowly... chewing and swallowing each tiny nibble... imagining I was on a balsa raft savoring the very last quarter-ration of hardtack... Thor Heyerdahl looking emaciated yet manly was at my side, moaning through cracked and bleeding lips... the effort to move was almost too much for him but he found the strength to give me... the last saltine! Thank you my beloved! Your sacrifice will not be in vain!