Michael awoke early the following morning, not remembering how he had ended up in bed when he had fallen asleep on the couch.
He he felt horrible, weak and achy and freezing cold. He cuddled up to Sara's back, seeking warmth, and felt a familiar tickle in his nose. He rubbed his nose vigorously, trying to ward off the sneeze to avoid waking Sara... with no avail. "Hehhh- tschoo! Tschoo! Ahhh... Het-choo!"
Sara rolled over and softly said "Michael" in a sympathetic voice, as he once more sneezed, "Aa-shoo!". Michael responded, "I'm fine Sara" quite matter of factly. They both knew this wasn't true.
She he gently touched his face and noticed he was very warm and clammy, yet lightly shivering. She turned on the lamp and went to retrieve the thermometer.
She returned with the oral thermometer, all they had, and aroused him from his light doze to place it in his mouth. He stared at her, eyes a piercing blue against his flushed cheeks.
Sara noticed his eyes gently squint and his breathing hitch slightly. "You're going to sneeze?" she assumed as she reached for the glass thermometer. She pushed her hand away, shaking his head. 'He's so stubborn' she thought to herself as she watched him frowning and trying not to sneeze.
Michael felt a pang of guilt for the burden he was on Sara with his ongoing illness, especially with her needing to prepare for the arrival of their son.
"I'm not sick." Michael's denial, in an unconvincing congested voice, was the first thing out of his mouth when she took the thermometer. Next was another fit of sneezes teasing his nose. "Ahhhhh... Ahhhhh..." Sara passed him a tissue. "Ahhh-schoo! Tschoo!" he sneezed into the tissue, with a soft sniffle.
She kissed him on the head and assured him, "I'm a doctor Michael. I know a sick man when I see one. I'll look after you." She noted with concern his temperature was at 103 degrees.
