How can he be under the weather? What state is he in? the motherinlaw gasped. Hes just sleeping. A slight fever, nothing serious, the cold snap has started.
Thats not just the cold! Its your job that brings the shops leftovers home! How many times must I tell youchange your line of work!
Ellen lay halfasleep when a sudden slam echoed through the flat. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, glanced at the clockonly eight in the morning.
Oliver, love, is that you? she called, her voice trembling as she listened for any sign of movement.
No answer came, only the soft click of the bathroom door opening and a sudden hush.
She threw on a woollen housecoat, slipped barefoot into the bathroom, and threw the door open. The sight that met her eyes made her gasp.
Oliver stood before the mirror, his lips drawn back, tongue thrust out in a lazy smile.
Ellen, is it true that when a person is under the weather their tongue turns white? he asked, his tone oddly casual.
Youare you under the weather? Ellen whispered, halfsleepily.
I think so, he muttered, pressing a hand to his forehead. I need a thermometer. Where did we put it? Let me lie down. Theyve let me off early from the factory. I might have to call a doctor.
She fetched the glass thermometer. The mercury read 37.2°C. The cold snap had set in and Oliver slipped back onto the sofa. A GP arrived an hour later, handed out a fitnote, and left.
Ellen rang her mother:
Mum, could you pick Sam up from nursery? He cant come homeOlivers ill.
Mum, who lived alone and adored her grandson, was delighted. She loved having Sam around.
Is Oliver doing anything serious? she asked.
Nothing extraordinary. The doctor gave him a sick note, prescribed a few simple treatments, and were just resting.
How are you holding up? her mother pressed.
Im fine! Ive got a second shift at work later, and Ill ask my motherinlaw to swing by this evening to keep an eye on Oliver. Thats the plan for the whole week. Thanks, Mum.
Ellen resolved to make a light chicken broth soup. She needed to dash to the corner shop, beyond the pharmacy, to fetch chicken thighs from the freezer and buy carrots and potatoes.
At the pharmacy she collected the necessary medicines. Later, at lunchtime, she roused her husband.
Oliver, get up and have some soup Ellen shook his shoulder.
Groggy, Oliver sat up on the bed.
I feel a bit queasy! Could you bring the soup to me? I cant make it to the kitchen.
Is it that bad? she replied, sighing. Fine, Ill bring it to you. Then you can check your temperature again
He ate the soup, she took his temperaturestill 37.2°C. She handed him a couple of tablets. Oliver turned his face to the wall and drifted back to sleep. Thank heavens.
In their household, Olivers sick pay covered his whole loss, but Ellens parttime retail job left her with no safety net. Their family was already juggling loans, so she couldnt afford to get ill herself. She called her motherinlaw again:
Mabel, Olivers under the weather. Could you check on him this evening? We usually have a lot of customers at night and I cant reach him.
How can he be under the weather? What condition is he in? Mabel exclaimed.
Hes just sleeping. A low fever, nothing more, the cold snap has begun.
Thats not just the cold! Its your job that brings home the shops leftovers! How many times must I tell youchange your line of work!
Mabel, Im not weak! You yourself said Oliver could collapse at a moments notice when he was a boy. The frosts have started, so Im not going to put up with this
Ellen cut the tirade short. Mabel loved to spin a story out of nothing, and within the hour she would be at the flat with a basket of herbs and homeremedies, claiming they might help. Ellen smiled inwardly; it was time to get ready for her shift.
Sure enough, Mabel arrived, slinging bags of dried rosemary, thyme and other miracle herbs, chattering about how Oliver was lying in a damp shirt and would only get worse. Ellen tried to explain:
He was already asleep when I found himwhat could I have done?
She left for work, but a few hours later the fatigue crept in. She felt the same weakness building in her. She couldnt show it, not with the bills looming, so she pressed on. That evening her temperature spiked higher than Olivers. She wanted to complain to him, but he was lost in his own thoughts.
I feel a chill and a sort of dizziness. Mum gave me tea with elderberries and honey; it helped a little, but by nightfall Im still unwell. What should I take?
Im not feeling great either Oliver replied, eyes flicking to his own pale tongue in the mirror. Take something, then.
She swallowed the pills silently, determined not to let anyone know how badly she felt. If she told her mother, shed be bombarded with endless advice every five minutes; if she told Mabel, shed be blamed; and Oliver would stay in his own world.
The decision was made: endure in silence, take the medication, and keep working. The loans wouldnt disappear on their own.
All week Oliver moaned about his weakness, insisting he felt miserable even though his thermometer stubbornly read 37°C. Mabels visits grew more frequent, with jars of tinctures and boiled potions. Ellen dreaded seeing her at the door; her own appearance had grown haggard.
Oliver remained oblivious, drifting between the TV and his phone. When Ellen returned home each night she measured his temperature; by the fourth day it finally settled to normal.
The weakness lingered, but they managed. Oliver stayed in bed longer, demanding meals delivered, temperature checks, and a glass of water at a moments notice. Mabel swore hed always been frail as a child, and now, after five years of marriage, this was the first real cold to hit himan intolerable inconvenience.
His slight infirmity was barely a nuisance, though he complained constantly about feeling poorly.
The following week the doctor cleared him. Sam was collected from the nursery and taken home. The next day Oliver would return to the factory.
Sitting at the kitchen table with a steaming mug of tea, Oliver mused:
When we were kids everything seemed easier to get through. Now Im stuck with thiscant you imagine?
Whats so special about it? Ellen asked, her voice weary.
You could try walking in my shoes! Its easy to talk when youre healthy.
Ive been there too! Ive had my share of fevers, but you just didnt notice.
Oliver gave her a skeptical glance, then a sly grin, as if hed uncovered a secret.
Youre joking, arent you? All right, lets get some sleep.
Ellen let out a sigh, her heart heavy. Hed seen nothing, but that was how it went.
And, as the old joke goes, only a woman whos endured a fever of 37°C can truly understand what a husband feels when his temperature hovers just above normal.
