So here I am again, some 12 years since my OCD kicked off, 4 years since I first felt I was able to cope with life, sitting on a plastic bag with my latex gloves on crying and shaking all because my husband has a sickness bug. Of course the lovely caring wife I am has just shouted at him for being sick, for washing his hands wrong, then come the endless questions of where was he sick, what did he touch, did he kiss the kids before bed. The poor bloke is ill and all I can do is go on at him. I know this will pass but now, right now I'm a horrible person, I hate this person