A HIGHLY contagious virus ruined our family Christmas in Queensland last month.
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But it wasn’t COVID-19.
While coronavirus almost halted my holiday plans completely, it did not lead to the downfall of the Jensen family between December 22-28.
No, that was left to the ghastly gastro.
And it was all thanks to my new niece.
One by one, 11 members of the family succumbed to the infectious illness.
Almost every one us, aged from 16 months to 69, was hit with 12-48 hours of violent vomiting, dreadful diarrhoea and a fiery fever.
The only person not infected, by some miracle, was my daughter Maya.
Now, I don’t know whether she has some sort of super immune system but the only thing I can put it down to was these homeopathic herbal drops I have been giving her, which are supposed to get rid of unwanted organisms and toxins.
Apparently the drops are supposed to help calm sugar highs and I knew my little chocolate fiend would be devouring lots of goodies that week.
All I know is I wish I was Maya the day gastro came to stay because I can’t remember the last time I was so ill.
It all started on December 22 after my sister, her partner and their two kids arrived at my parents.
That night, their 18-month-old daughter was up spewing and pooing all over the place, which we all put down to eating different food and being out of routine.
How wrong we were.
The next night, my sister Signe came down with the same bug, followed very closely by her other daughter Eve and me — meaning the three of us could not make it to our traditional Christmas Eve dinner.
As we lay sweating and frothing at the mouth in our adjoining bedrooms, we could hear the cacophony of joy and laughter from upstairs as the rest of the family enjoyed the world’s finest roast pork dinner before enjoying an uproarious game of Cards Against Humanity.
It was torture.
The cold sweat and fever had me walking around the house in a delirious daze.
Drenched in sweat, I had to jump in the shower to cool myself down, only to be freezing five minutes later.
Thankfully, I was on the mend by Christmas Day, but whatever had left my body had spread to my eldest daughter, Ayla.
A very pasty looking teen perspired through the opening of the presents, only to sneak off to her bedroom where she didn’t emerge from — except for evacuation processes — until the following day.
Unfortunately, Signe still had the runs at that stage and had to make a mad dash to the shower drain to relieve herself as Ayla was using the toilet for the fifth time.
It was like a scene out of Bridesmaids. ‘‘Look away!!’’
The next morning Ayla awoke with her appetite back, and with everyone else in the house in high spirits, we celebrated Christmas 2.0 on Boxing Day.
But it was short-lived as mum became ill while my other sister’s daughter, Alexis, dramatically screamed her way through a violent spewing attack.
I’m just thankful she didn’t eat the prawns and bugs. We would have been smelling fish for days.
We all awoke the next morning to discover my nephew Mason had been up all night with the malicious malady.
And he won the spewing contest - vomiting 12 times overnight.
Even his dad and mine didn't come close to that incredible streak, although they moaned their way through their sickness the following days like the tough men they are.
But for that insufferable interruption on our holiday, the rest of the trip went swimmingly - with visits to the beach and theme parks and celebrating New Year's Eve in Queensland's capital.
Which brings me to our current situation.
The three of us tested for COVID-19 and were forced to stay at home until at least 6pm Monday.
All because we went to Brisbane.
A wonderful end to a holiday where the three of us were together 24/7 for two weeks straight.
And now we're all locked in a house with nowhere to go.
Let's just hope gastro 2.0 doesn't pay us another visit.
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