With the holidays, came the "yuckies" from up north brought to Florida by those travelers on airplanes, buses, and cars. People in the north bring their winter germs which manifest themselves once they hit the warmer weather. Runny noses. Coughs. Stomach ailments. Of course, this is passed on to those of us living here and like dominoes, we begin to fall.
Darcy fell first. A sore throat. Tiredness. Chills. But she is young, and while she did whine, she allowed herself to sleep late and to take naps, and she kept on trucking, eventually getting through it without a trip to the doctor. It re-occurred once, but she fought that off too and went back to college with bright eyes and a clear nose.
I pride myself on my immune system. Other than a strep throat once a year, and the requisite ailments for children like chicken pox, I avoided sicknesses through my childhood. The only awards I received in kindergarten through eighth grade was that of attendance because I never missed school because I never was sick. That has continued into my adulthood. If I'm sick, it is always some obscure, write-it-up-in-a-medical-journal illness. The last time I was on an antibiotic was in 2016 due to an infected cyst. I rarely (knock on wood) get the "yuckies".
I fell on the 28th of December. What with a house full of five teen adults, Tom's family, and my family visiting for the holidays sleep wasn't a high priority. I had to squeeze every little minute I could with everyone and unfortunately less sleep is a trigger for me. I started with a sore throat on the left side of my throat. Odd indeed because my nose was clear. My answer to fixing this was to consume alcohol, another thing I rarely do except during the holidays and vacations. No go. The next day I had a cough.
It was a dry cough, like a tickle in the throat, and it was damn annoying. It kept me during the four hours of sleep I'd try to get at night and the lack of shut eye didn't help the cough and so on and so forth. Needless to say, the cough stayed and a week later a runny nose joined it. By Saturday, January 6th I conceded I was sick. I couldn't stay awake that day. I slept until eleven, got up and had coffee and fell asleep on the futon. I woke up, read some of my book, and suddenly my head was lolling back against the cushions. I gave up and went to bed. When I awoke around four o'clock in time for the first NFL playoff game, I had a fever. I could feel it. I croacked out a call for help. No one came.
I texted Darcy. She brought me a thermometer, acknowledged I had a fever, kissed my forehead and heading back to college.
The game got me out of bed. We don't have a television in our room so off to the living room I went, dragging blankets, a tissue box, and a bottle of water. Tom was gone. I made myself something to eat since I hadn't had anything all day and watched the first half of the game. I don't remember anything past that until I heard screaming, awoke, and saw that the Titans had comeback in the last few seconds to win. I hit the record button for the second game, took some Advil, and went to bed. It was 8:07 p.m.
The "yuckies" have lingered. I can't seem to shake it. The cough is now a wet one. The nose drains. The tiredness hits me several times a day. Unfortunately, I didn't have time to recover. I had The Condo to strip, to clean, and to repair. I had Christmas decorations and a tree that was beginning to smell overly ripe to take down. I allowed myself moments to sit and read, but for the most part I just kept on trucking. My only concession was to get to bed by ten o'clock each night hoping sleep would be the cure.
Yesterday I felt more normal than I have since the 28th. I spent the day stripping beds and washing sheets and comforters. I opened windows and allowed fresh air to replace the ill air. I cleaned glasses and picked up wadded tissues and disinfected surfaces. I threw away my toothbrush and opened a brand new one. I was on the way to wellness.
At 6:30 headlights appeared in my front door and the dog eagerly went there to welcome home his master, home early for the first time this week. His tail wagged furiously, but his master had no time for love.
Tom: "I'm sick. It is the worse thing ever. I barely made it through the day. You have no idea how miserable I am."
Seriously?
No comments:
Post a Comment