Ill, and not the good kind

My T and my M are sick.  Temple got the stuffies and the coughies from her "friends" Jarin and Tobin, who were here last weekend to enjoy Matt's 15 hour smoked pork shoulder.  They brought their parents, Tim and Lucia, and did not actually eat any pork themselves.  They were too busy spreading disease.  It's not too bad.  Temple doesn't have a fever.  She has been having trouble eating because of the congestion.  On Thursday, the first night of the sickness, she woke up after only 3 hours hacking and snorting like a bull, and we couldn't get an accurate read from the ear thermometer because of all the head bucking, and we couldn't get her to hold the conventional thermometer in her mouth for the 12 minutes it apparently takes to get a read.  She didn't feel warm, but Matt panicked, and raced through the night to get a thermometer.  He had to go 20 minutes to the 24 hour CVS, where he saw two gentlemen in chef's jackets shopping.  One bought a Tombstone Pizza.  The other, a family size bag of Doritos and a jar of Salsa con Queso.  Sounds like a party.  By the time he got home, Temple had had 4 ounces of formula, and was asleep.  I was smugly feigning sleep.  I was concerned about Temple, too, but a thermometer is not a cure, and she did eat some and fall asleep.  I called the doc in the morning.  There's nothing to be done but make sure she is hydrated.  Matt keeps flushing her nasals with saline and the sucky bulb, like she's a nuclear reactor, so now, in addition to congestion, she had a chapped face.  His neurotic concern is touching, and it's a shame that Temple will be emotionally scarred from it.