I think that in my same situation, most other people would have been upset. I wasn't, and I guess I'm posting about it because I want to work out, on the page, why that is.

Hatley Castle at Royal Roads University in Victoria, Vancouver Island, BC

After a substantial drive and a smooth ferry ride on a gloriously beautiful day, my family and I arrived in Victoria and settled into our condominium-style rooms overlooking the bay. From my window in our bedroom I could look out at a little marina where a lovely, old-fashioned wooden sloop floated along with a handful of modern boats. My husband had been feeling poorly but he'd improved enough that he had no trouble eating the hamburger, rice and grated cheese (all bought locally at Thrifty Foods) I made for everyone. Dessert was scones and tea. The men planned on touring on foot downtown while my daughter and I had reservations to have high tea at the world-famous Buschart Gardens. 

I woke up super early, bothered by a nasty but not overwhelming headache, and watched the sky gradually lighten over the water. It was the 'off' season, so a lone sea plane puttered along by before revving its engines and taking off into the glow of the morning's first light. When we've been here before during the peak season, the seaplanes would take off frequently all day, and it was part of the pleasure of staying at this particular place to watch them during those times when we wanted to just sit and relax. My husband woke soon after and we chatted about our plans.

Suddenly, I felt the tell-tale pressure of nausea rise, and my mouth began to water. I hadn't felt these things in decades, but I've been sick just often enough as a young woman to know the signs. I was lucky to reach the bathroom without making a mess. Afterward, shaken but feeling slightly better, my husband and I talked about whether or not I'd feel well enough to keep my plans. He consulted with our daughter and good friend/housemate while I isolated in our bedroom and tried to figure out what was going on. And then I had to run to the bathroom again. There was literally nothing in my stomach either time except some fluid. I did some math in my head while trying not to think, because my head was really hurting. I dismissed the idea that this was some kind of migraine thingy. I'd actually felt this before, and the timing and route of infection seemed pretty clear.

Somewhere, my husband had picked up norovirus, probably a few days before when he went to meet a friend and eat at a restaurant (we rarely eat at restaurants because we love our own cooking) and he promptly infected me on one or more of the many occasions that we kissed. By the time he was symptomatic (during our drive, during which his iron stomach never yielded a thing), I hadn't any idea that anything was going on except maybe a bit too much fun on the night before (which I didn't participate in, as I was driving the next day).

I shooed everyone out, cancelled high tea, and spent the day sipping water and trying (with limited success) to alleviate my symptoms with everyone's favorite pink stomach-soothing liquid. After confirming that this helps with norovirus, I persisted with the meds and water while everyone else went out and had a grand time. The next day I felt well enough to have a few saltines in the early morning. By the afternoon my husband, who returned early and alone from running around town with the rest of our group, took me by the hand and walked with me (him protectively, me a bit wobbly) for a twenty minute stroll around Fisherman's Wharf. I had a real dinner that night. It was just a baked potato with a few mild fixings, but it tasted like heaven.

The next day, the day before we left, I finally felt 100% good*, and went on adventures with my daughter, not to Buschart, but the glorious Horticultural Center of the Pacific for the first time in my life. I had such an amazing time! After a long tour around the many featured gardens, and after saving a bird's life (long story), we went to Charlotte and the Quail Café where we had incredible food and had them pack oatcakes with huckleberries and clotted cream to take away for dessert later than night. We then picked up the men and all of us went to Hatley.

Quietly, my husband confessed to me that it was one of the best vacations he'd ever had. He felt so guilty for saying it! I had a confession too, though. 

I had a really, really wonderful vacation.

How?

Thinking back, I think there's a lot of layers to it.

First, the place we were staying was scrupulously, spotlessly clean. Our bedding had that bleached scent to it, and the blanket was as soft and light as down, though it was most likely a down alternative. There was not a bit of dirt or dust anywhere. This is not the case at home, where I rarely use bleach. Our bathroom at home, I have to admit, is not spotless, and there's a mold problem behind the tank. I would have been miserable smelling the less-than-perfect demi-cleanliness of our bathroom, to say the least. It would have been a lot of work to clean up after myself and then clean around our toilet at home with bleach, etc. not just for sanitation purposes but also so that the smells as I knelt before the porcelain altar wouldn't make my nausea a million times worse. 

I also ran a lot of laundry in our rented room, because it would help keep the virus contained and protect my family and friend from the evil working its way around inside my body. We have laundry machines at home too, but they're downstairs, not a few paces from the bed where I sat up, wondering how long this would go on. 

The view outside the window of the condo was amazing. I was a sad kitty, but not so sad that I couldn't appreciate how lucky I was.

My husband faithfully walked all over creation fetching things that would get me over my illness as quickly as possible, and didn't flinch or complain as he slept in the same room as the disgusting mass I had become. Of course I tried to make myself as tolerable and minimize my virus shedding by not waiting until the last minute when I felt something pending, and showering afterward. Yes, I took a lot of showers, but it was worth it to me, and having wet hair actually helped a LOT with the headache. I'm pretty sure the headache was from a low grade fever, and it's nice and cooling to have wet hair without the pressure of a wet washcloth. Anyway, my iron stomached beloved was loving and stayed by my side except when I insisted that he go out and have fun enough for both of us and so I could rest in a perfectly quiet place.

Oh, the bed ... it was so comfortable, and I had a million pillows at my disposal. Did I mention the view? And I had the balcony sliding door open so that I could enjoy the sea air as well as the view. At home, we can't leave the door open like that, because we have indoor only cats, and screen doors and screens over windows interrupt more airflow than most people realize. It was great.

I feel less weird about it now, now that I've put it into words. We totally had a fantastic vacation. I wouldn't change a thing.

Well, okay, maybe one thing...

* The fact that I was feeling better after two days is another reason why I believe that my husband and I contracted the dreaded norovirus. Our friend and my daughter, thankfully, did not contract it.