Death Becomes Me....

Or something like that. I have had the luxury of a nearly iron clad immune system for the last decade, if not longer. The last time I can recall spending 3 consecutive days in bed was grade 7, I was 12. Somewhere in my work/travels I picked up the virus from hell. It started odd and I should have known I was in for trouble.

Thursday:
I woke up with a productive cough and went were the hell did that come from? Oh, well maybe just my nose draining - it's allergy season and all - no big deal. By the time I made it work I was cursing myself but not alarmed - sniffles and the basic cold are easily shot down with a few good nights sleep, some more vitamins and drugs. By lunch I had the chills, sore throat and the aches. I went home drugged myself up and went to bed, it couldn't be that bad right?

Friday:
I had to work, under a thick haze of Dayquil and Cepacols I limped through, managed to get myself home and attempted to die. But no, I managed about an hour of sleep at a time, between the cough that is body shaking and is so piercingly painful that I can feel it behind my eyes. My throat burned and it was no consolation that it wasn't strep (strep for those of you unaware comes localized, in other words you don't normally get strep and a cold).

Saturday:
Morning came with the reality of laundry day - my one freaking day to do laundry and I can't stand up, never mind think. Some how I managed and I even garnered enough energy to stumble out to London Drugs and buy a plethora of medications. It was about mid afternoon in my vain attempt to sleep that the cell phone rang - it was my dad calling from Mexico - my inability to speak alarmed them and made me cry. I felt so alone. I'm all for being independent, but when you're this sick I wanted someone to wash the dishes, change the laundry, feed me or anything. My parents called Sherron, a nurse and mother to come to my aid, since I had no one at home and could not call for help if I needed it. She arrived with soft foods in hand - cooked yam, rice, applesauce, oatmeal and gingerale. She also surveying my plethora determined that I needed more - so she ventured out, bought me cough syrup with codeine and a humidifier, instructed me what to double dose, how many of each I could take and hopefully I would make it through the night. I did better through the night, more sleep but still the cough.

Sunday:
I woke up at 6, made oatmeal, had a shower, tidied the kitchen and then tried to sleep some more - then the nausea came - vomiting and diarrhea which thankfully happened while Sherron was here checking up on me. She bought me some Gravol suppositories(since I wasn't keeping anything down) and bottles of Powerade. Surprisingly the Powerade is actually pretty good - the orange flavor reminds me of the McDonald's juice they would have a church functions... A note on the Powerade - as lesson we were taught at the clinic - if vomiting is persistent or the intact of fluids is difficult, freeze Powerade/Gatorade in an ice cube tray - one every 15-30 minutes - that way you know how much liquid is taken in and sucking on an ice cube is often more soothing

So here we are 8pm on Sunday - I can't breath through my nose, I can't swallow, I can't talk or hear, I'm weary to eat anything - I'm hungry, yet I'm not. And I've managed to in just over 24hrs finish off an entire Kleenex box.

If Leaha comes home,I'm going to have her take me to the clinic in the morning or see if Brian will do a house call.

The whole downside to this is my weekend with Three is coming up and I can't do it - getting on to a plane with the pressure that it normally puts on my ears, never mind the voice and the fatigue as it stands. Unless I make a miracle recovery it's off. And to be honest I'm not really disappointed - maybe that's the drugs or maybe this is time for me to face something I've been ignoring.

Photo:http://www.flickr.com/photos/bbuncensored/254698671/