Well, we arrived in Phoenix on Friday afternoon, but not exactly in tip-top shape. All week, we had been dogged by kids with fevers and irritability, and I had no idea why they were so miserable until I came down with it myself.

Jamie got it before me, and fortunately she slept a while on our final day of driving. Not as much as she would have liked, but it was something. By Friday night, she was lights out, and I suddenly found myself exhausted, barely able to stand up in the shower before hitting the hay in our hotel.

In the morning, the kids wanted to go swimming, and although I was feeling lousy I took them. They’d suffered four days in the car, it was the least I could do. When I made it to the pool, I knew I was in trouble. I was cold, in Arizona, in August. Granted, that morning it was only about 87 degrees, but still…

We decided to make the drive to Tucson that morning, and so we headed out, loaded up with ibuprofen, and made the last 100-mile trek to our final stop. Jamie had a fever, but the medicine was keeping it in check. I didn’t, but I was starting to feel terrible – everything hurt. By the time we arrived, I was all but ready to crash. The house here in Tucson is hot, though – really hot – as it has only an evaporative cooling system and no A/C.  When my fever finally arrived Saturday night, I was sleeping in a house that has yet to drop below 85 degrees inside. Today, it was 91.

Sunday was pure misery. I could barely move. Getting out of bed was almost impossible. Dizzy, aching in every joint, headache, fever, sore throat, stomach cramps – you name it. I shined a flashlight on my tonsils and saw what looked like the telltale signs of strep throat. The symptoms matched, and since I get REALLY sick with strep, Jamie took me into the urgent care for a checkup. Aside from it being the longest I’ve ever waited to see a doctor (2 hours) while sitting, with a fever, in a cold exam room, barely able to keep my head up, the strep test was negative. Now, that could be because I have such a nasty gag reflex that you can’t swab my throat. I’ve bit through the wooden sticks in the past (I’ve had strep a whole bunch of times) because the minute it touches something in the back of my mouth, there’s an involuntary clampdown in effect.  The nurse offered to have me do it myself. I tried – four times – and failed to really get anywhere. The doctor gave me a prescription anyway, on the condition that I wait to see if things got worse before I filled it.

After an afternoon and evening spent alternating between the chills and overheating from covering myself with a blanket in the sweltering heat, I finally got some sleep last night. This morning, I felt far better than yesterday, but my throat was worse. Jamie, whose throat started hurting after she seemed to be all better, went in to the doctor today. She also got a clean bill – no strep – and she has no problem with the throat culture. But she was given a prescription too, so we filled them. So far, I can’t tell if things are getting better. It’s still hard as hell to swallow, and Jamie just overall feels miserable.

So that’s how we’ve spent our first few days here. I’m really hoping that things get better from now on.  Talk about an inauspicious start…