MADELEINE: When Mitch arrived home from Vegas, I was so excited to see him after three nights alone in our apartment. I happily helped him with his luggage and started in on the details of my weekend. It was when I went to give him a big kiss that the unspeakable happened. He coughed.
The Bride in the Plastic Bubble.
Under normal circumstances, I’d feel sorry for him, make him tea and nurse him back to health. But I can’t help believing that this particular illness is completely his own doing – the result of a weekend of no sleep, lots of alcohol, cigars, bad food, and two long plane flights. My pity for him is paltry, especially when I think back to my parting words of “please take care of yourself and don’t get sick.”
So now, under tremendous stress, I am finishing up my final week of meetings, fittings, and seating charts, while trying desperately to fight off the flu that Mitch brought home with him.
I’ve been so diligent about taking good care of myself so that I’ll be healthy and happy on my wedding day. But so much for months of yoga and salads, cause Mr. Germ returned home and sent me into an irrational physical and emotional downward spiral filled with excessive amounts of Purell sanitizer and Lysol spray.
Apart from living in a plastic bubble for the next ten days, there is little else I can do but hope that Mitch will recover soon, and pray that I’m not going to end up a sick, hacking bride.