Just call me Typhoid Mary

This day was full of tragedy, but my own day went well.  I was in Juvenile Hall where the girls' therapy group was full and the kids were perfectly behaved and responsive.  I so enjoy being with them!

The boy's maximum security art group went well too - for a while - until I started choking with the remnants of last week's cold.  I was having dinner with the kids and started off with the veggies.  Big mistake!  There was a tiny bit of spice and it set off spasms that were overwhelming.

"Are you okay, Barbara?"  One of the kids told me he was certified in CPR and I wasn't sure if that was reassuring or spiked my already high freaking out level.  I mean, I wasn't having a heart attack or anything, just coughing with tears streaming down my face.  I finally just alerted staff that I wasn't with the boys and skipped to the loo to pull myself together.

My demise is not as imminent as some believe.  When Youngest Daughter went to Special Olympics basketball practice she told one of her friends that her mom has cancer.  He, in turn, told another friend that I had died.  So we got a late night phone call to express condolences.  Even the parish goes wild at times.  Somehow my cold, just a cold, turned into a deathly flu by the time the rumor got back to me.

I hope I'm not disappointing anyone by actually being in good health, in spite of everything.