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I am at the local hospital in my neighborhood. I caught pnuemonia from my little girl and because I am also asthmatic, it has landed me in the ER and then admitted.

I am bored out of my skull. I try to be positve...I have a private room and own bathroom. The t.v. has cable. Only being attached to an i.v and an oxygen cannula up my nose there is not much I can do.

My husband tries to visit but that in itself is frustrating. He can't put his arms around me, afraid he will knock out my i.v or oxygen and the kids get ansty after 10 minutes.

Monday rolls around and I have been here for five days already. They finally figured out that the asthma attack was brought on by the pnuemonia and start treating the illness. I am eating bland hospital food breakfast when my husband walks in bearing gifts looking incredibly sexy and I realize he is wearing what he wears when he plays golf. Well pressed khakis and a polo. He takes off his coat and smiles.

"You look better today."

"Yeah? Where are the kids?"

"At daycare, what did you think?" He reminds me. ...

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