My Wonderful, Strong, Powerful, Kick-Ass-And-Take-Names Wife is sick. Really sick. For real sick. As is, can’t do housework sick. This is serious.

Bless her heart, she spent about five days barely able to eat before I finally strong-armed her into a walk-in clinic. They confirmed she was sick, “probably a virus,” took some blood and sent her home for fluids and rest. The next morning the doctor called and told us the blood tests showed something a little more serious than a virus… her potassium levels were so low that it could affect her heart being able to, you know, pump blood.

Not something you want to hear during the Wednesday morning commute.

So, one quick dash to the ER and seven hours later, she is diagnosed with a pretty nasty case of Mono. We’ve read up on it a bit and turns out the older you are, the worse the symptoms. I learned that most Americans don’t realize they had Mono as children when the symptoms are often confused for a cold because Mono doesn’t even inflame your lymph nodes. Just flu symptoms for several days. And we all know teenagers who get Mono and have to miss a month of school. Well, we won’t discuss my wife’s age but let’s just say that later in life Mono causes your spleen and liver to swell and become painful. Any heavy lifting or rough impact could rupture your spleen. For those playing along at home, a ruptured spleen is a very not good thing.

So, I’m managing the house for a few weeks. No big deal. I mean, I know how to do all the stuff. I buy groceries and cook all the time. I clean the kitchen and load the dishwasher. I feed the dogs and cats. What else can there be?

Oh, god. We’re doomed, aren’t we?