Temp went up. Was supposed to go down, and I was to be greeted by AF today. Neither happened. Hmmmmm.....

When I took my shower this morning, my breasts were so sore that the falling water droplets were painful. My pregnancy books don't help when they say, "You'll feel as if your period is going to begin at any minute," because I do. In fact, I keep going to the bathroom and checking. No sign of her yet.

Eric has The Crud. His throat is sore, he has a cough, he's congested, and he's running a fever. He took a sick day, and will likely take another one tomorrow.

I told him (only half joking) that he picked the absolute worst possible time to get sick. Now I won't trust my temps, in case I'm running a fever, and if I start puking or feeling faint, I won't know whether it's pregnancy-related or that I'm catching The Crud. He didn't find it funny.

So we drove to the doctor, twenty minutes away. Dr. Bell took about a microsecond glance in Eric's throat, and said, "Yep, you have pus on your tonsils!" He put Eric on antibiotics; unfortunately, Eric's allergic to penicillin and most penicillin derivatives and substitutes, so now we have to keep a close watch on him to see if he starts getting crampy. It'll be a trip to the hospital for some Valium if he reacts.

Now, in the midst of all the sicky-ness, we're still both wondering about the current state of my fertility. Eric made the decision.

"When we get home, after you go get my prescription and some Halls, we'll test."
"Are you sure you want to today?"
"What's wrong with today?"
"Well, if it's positive, you won't really be able to enjoy it, being sick and all. And if it's negative...well, that's enough to drive any day straight down the crapper."

But he was sure that he wanted to know, so we tested. I took my stick into the bathroom and went through the necessary contortions. One minute: nothing. Two minutes: square has a line, but nothing in the circle. Three minutes: still nothing. Buzz! I lose. Not even an evaporation line after twenty minutes. I get nothing.

Course, that doesn't necessarily mean that I'm not pregnant. I'm not holding my breath, but if my temps stay up and AF doesn't show by Friday, I'll retest.

In the meantime, I'm playing nursemaid. I don't mind it at all, but I do wish that our "sick styles" were more compatible. When I'm sick, I like to be pampered. Being held, getting my forehead rubbed, being treated like a four year old. Eric, on the other hand, would like very much to be left alone, or maybe be waited on by invisible servants who bring him what he needs, but never touch. It's so hard not to touch him; my first response is to treat him like I'd want to be treated, but that's the last thing he wants.

His mom is probably trying to call. Rita wants very much to baby Eric whenever possible, and she worries terribly when he gets sick (or depressed, or the hiccups...). She panicked when she called earlier - to leave a message that Bryan passed his boards - and I picked up the phone. She wanted to talk to him, but he was asleep.