Grossed out

You already know I'm neurotic. You already know I overreact and take occurrences out of context and act like they're bigger deals than they really are.

But I can't really stress enough the primal fear and panic that courses through my veins when I hear someone getting sick. When I was younger, it meant I'd grab my blanket and a pillow and run, not breathing, to the car to sleep or hide out, however long it took. Or, if Mom would forbid my sleeping in the garage to avoid the flu, I'd lock myself in my room, holding clothes over my face if I needed to come out. It's no offense, dear Flu Victim, merely my knowledge that puking is contagious, and gross.

Once, before a vacation to Chicago, my two brothers both got sick at the table (the horror!) while I was trapped between their two chairs and the wall. I started screaming, pushing Derrick's chair up with him still in it, as I ran toward the garage door, shrieking, "MOM! Make them stop! I want to go to Chicago! Mooooooom!"

And to further make myself feel like I have an immune system of steel, my brother and I would talk out all the reasons we couldn't get sick, or that the other person did. "He probably ate something from a dish that had dish soap residue on it. That can make you sick." "I didn't talk to him after he threw up so he's not contagious." "She sleeps on a different floor than we do, so her germs are mainly downstairs."

Just like "Oregon Trail," I will leave you for dead if you throw up, too. I love you, but this is for the best. Now get off my wagon.

And unfortunately I learned this weekend that none of that's really changed as I've grown up.

Saturday morning around 6 a.m. I heard my mom in the bathroom in her house, as Dave snored lightly beside me. I plugged my ears, groaned, and thought about waking him up and making him drive me away! Away! To Oshkosh! To a hotel! To anywhere! Just get ME OUT OF HERE!

And I felt guilty about that. It's not like she MEANT to get sick. But later that day, my brother and I continued our age-long tradition. "She had one of those red wine coolers. Sometimes those sugary drinks get to you. You know." "I didn't hug her goodnight, so I'm OK." "It was probably something she ate for lunch, before we got there." Even though I know this is a lie.

I held my breath til I was out of the house and at my second Christmas party for the weekend. I kept my distance last night when we got home and showed off our presents. And all during this, I felt really guilty. It's my MOM. I love my mom.

But still. I keep thinking, If I get sick, I'll be so pissed. And is that a pain in my stomach? Oh, God, do I feel warm to you? Oh, God.