My husband's an alien

We just had the week from norovirus hell.
The sickie bug struck last weekend and claimed our middle son as it’s first victim, as soon as he stopped puking the oldest son came down with it, then the husband got it then I was floored by it after a full seven days sans sleep, wiping floors, moping brows and shoving seemingly endless supplies of bed clothes into the washing machine.
While I was still able to stand up I pleaded with various chemists to give me something to make my two boys better. I described the symptoms – severe grumpiness, inability to be sick into provided receptacles, floor puking preferences, hardcore complaining during all daylight hours, conversing about puke all night through, looking generally down in the mouth – but I was told I couldn’t really give them anything. Apparently this particularly hellish bug is ‘doing the rounds’ and we would have to ride the storm.
The baby didn’t get the bug at all, thank goodness, testament to the power of breastfeeding. He just laughed at the rest of us moping around feeling sorry for ourselves.
It may have been mini-hell, but there were some funny moments. This megabug left us all a bit wacky when it hit – there were some feverish ramblings. The oldest son, who had been making pancakes in school the day before he succumbed to the bug, woke up screaming ‘PLEEEASE, I CAN’T EAT ANY MORE PANCAKES, I’VE HAD 20 and the husband swears I woke up singing the theme tune to ‘Minder’. I always hated Minder.
Hilarity also ensued when we would race to the bathroom, a puking child underarm to discover that all puke that needed to be puked had been puked up enroute. Feeling pukey yet?
We were all floored for at least three days. The husband strangely fought the superbug for just two hours and then bounced back. This is a trend that has been a constant in the 13 years we have been together – he rarely gets sick and when he does he goes the whole hog. I swear I can count on two fingers the times he has actually been ill – once with chickenpox in 2001, once with pleurisy in 2003. He doesn’t ‘do’ flus or colds, tummy bugs, food poisoning, sore throats etc like us mere mortals. I may have married either a robot or an alien.