Gavin caught a miserable chest cold. Now, we've been married 8 years, and I knew him for 2 prior to that. In all that time, I believe he's only been ill once. He has sometimes almost caught a cold, but then he flexes and it flees in terror. Point being, it takes a monster of a virus to batter him down.
I, however, am a delicate, lacy handkerchief in a hurricane before even the most meager of sniffle viruses. I've successfully avoided catching anything for actual years, thanks to my strict regimen of being clinically afraid of people, also eating a lot of fruit. But, we're married, and I like kissing him and stuff.
So, yes, I am going to die now. It was fun knowing you all, please mix my ashes with glitter, and shoot me into space with a firework. Then get super drunk and have crazy sex. Either after or during the wake. Thanks.