When my kids were young, it never seemed to fail that one or both of them would be ill at Christmas. One memorable year, my two grandmothers and my in-laws from Florida visited, and it snowed in Phoenix. Of course, neither of my children were too interested, as they both had chicken pox! I can’t think of anything much worse than a diaper full of chicken pox. Another year, my youngest awoke on Christmas morning with a raging fever. She stumbled downstairs opened one present and promptly fell into a sound sleep.

But this year may be the most memorable. My grandson and my son-in-law have RSV, my daughter is recovering from pneumonia, and I have contracted some evil, unshakable respiratory infection. Curiously, my physician tells me lots of folk are ill right now. Curiously, my eldest, a nurse practitioner in South Carolina reports the same, as does my sister in Houston, my brother in California, and one of my friends in Ohio. How can that be? Is there something contagious in the Christmas cookies or fruitcake?

The simple explanation may be stress and excitement the holidays bring. Personally, I think these little nasty microbes basked in the sun all summer long in preparation for a full-on attack this time of year. They are merrily dancing across my bed, as I lie there coughing my brains out.

Hopefully, I will survive my self-imposed exile from the parties and celebrations, for indeed the song, I’ll Be Home for Christmas, has taken on a whole new meaning this year.

Merry Christmas!