Ahh, what a glorious few days I've had!
I've had an annoying cough for a few weeks now. I don't really know what's causing it, but I've gone through periods before where I've had a cough for no reason... so whatever. It doesn't produce anything, there's no sore throat, there's nothing - just a the feeling that my throat is as dusty as the insides of my collectible Star Wars glasses.
Unfortunately, my throat doesn't have sweet Ewoks printed on it, AND I can't hop onto eBay to find a new one.
On Wednesday, everything changed. I woke up and just felt completely dead. Sluggish and slow with no appetite and no desire to get out of bed. That usually doesn't happen. I went to work and felt horrible all day. Hot and cold. Hot and cold. Hot. Hot. Cold. Cold.ColColColColCold.
I took my normal lunch break and came home to check my temperature. If I were taking the temperature of our fair city of Plattsburgh, all of the snow would have been melted while birds flew from tree to tree singing love songs.
Unfortunately, this was the inside of my mouth, and it was sitting at a crisp 101.6 degrees.
I called work and told them that I wouldn't be coming back in for the rest of the day on account of me catching a death. I spent the rest of the day curled up on the chair in our living room, layered in two hoodies, two blankets, next to a heater blasting deliciously hot air. I drank some juice. Ate some Ramen. Laid around feeling like my head was a bubble blown from a little kid and that it was getting nervously close to the sun, ready to burst at any second.
Later on, Megan and Erin stopped by for a surprise visit. They brought me presents of crayons, a Sesame Street Coloring book, some The Incredibles mini-doodles, and Silly Putty. They braved the elements - my disgusting, germ-infested breath threatening to snap them from health and well-being like hurricane winds on a canoer.
We hung out for a bit, which pretty much consisted of me laying around, dozing off every now and then, while we watched King Kong. It was my second time seeing it, and even the stupor that my illness had landed me in couldn't convince me that it wasn't still absolutely horrible.
I suppose coloring books, good friends and bad movies are the new cure for the flu. After they left, my temperature had dwindled down to a nearly-healthy 99.6 degrees!
Unfortunately, it returned to 100.4 about two hours later.
I stayed home from work on Thursday. I woke up and still had my near-102 temperature, so I wasn't going to be going anywhere. I sat around, again, drinking fluids and dining on a swell French onion soup. My wonderful cough was still wrecking me at this point, but by now it was producing results! There was definitely phlegm in my throat-hole, and it didn't feel so dusty. Instead, every time I coughed sounded like the cracking of wood in a campfire. If you could reproduce that feeling inside of a person's chest, then that's probably what I was feeling, too.
I don't really remember much about Thursday. Mostly because I just did nothing but laid around and tried to feel better.
I woke up this morning (and several times throughout the night) drenched in sweat, rolling around in my cold, wet sheets and blankets hoping that this would all be over soon. My temperature was down to about a solid 99 when I got up.
Unfortunately, my head still felt like a punching bag for Sonny Liston, so it was hard to perceive any real improvement in my condition.
Every time I get up to walk, it feels like I'm going to fall over or, at the least, stumble into a wall.
At least I have the next two days off to rest and recuperate before work on Monday.
Hopefully I feel less like a bubble on the brink of popping.
Hopefully I breathe less like a hurricane waiting to snatch unsuspecting citizens in its might and malice.
Hopefully I cough less like a campfire snapping bits of wood up in its fervent, orange jaws.
Hopefully.
I've had an annoying cough for a few weeks now. I don't really know what's causing it, but I've gone through periods before where I've had a cough for no reason... so whatever. It doesn't produce anything, there's no sore throat, there's nothing - just a the feeling that my throat is as dusty as the insides of my collectible Star Wars glasses.
Unfortunately, my throat doesn't have sweet Ewoks printed on it, AND I can't hop onto eBay to find a new one.
On Wednesday, everything changed. I woke up and just felt completely dead. Sluggish and slow with no appetite and no desire to get out of bed. That usually doesn't happen. I went to work and felt horrible all day. Hot and cold. Hot and cold. Hot. Hot. Cold. Cold.ColColColColCold.
I took my normal lunch break and came home to check my temperature. If I were taking the temperature of our fair city of Plattsburgh, all of the snow would have been melted while birds flew from tree to tree singing love songs.
Unfortunately, this was the inside of my mouth, and it was sitting at a crisp 101.6 degrees.
I called work and told them that I wouldn't be coming back in for the rest of the day on account of me catching a death. I spent the rest of the day curled up on the chair in our living room, layered in two hoodies, two blankets, next to a heater blasting deliciously hot air. I drank some juice. Ate some Ramen. Laid around feeling like my head was a bubble blown from a little kid and that it was getting nervously close to the sun, ready to burst at any second.
Later on, Megan and Erin stopped by for a surprise visit. They brought me presents of crayons, a Sesame Street Coloring book, some The Incredibles mini-doodles, and Silly Putty. They braved the elements - my disgusting, germ-infested breath threatening to snap them from health and well-being like hurricane winds on a canoer.
We hung out for a bit, which pretty much consisted of me laying around, dozing off every now and then, while we watched King Kong. It was my second time seeing it, and even the stupor that my illness had landed me in couldn't convince me that it wasn't still absolutely horrible.
I suppose coloring books, good friends and bad movies are the new cure for the flu. After they left, my temperature had dwindled down to a nearly-healthy 99.6 degrees!
Unfortunately, it returned to 100.4 about two hours later.
I stayed home from work on Thursday. I woke up and still had my near-102 temperature, so I wasn't going to be going anywhere. I sat around, again, drinking fluids and dining on a swell French onion soup. My wonderful cough was still wrecking me at this point, but by now it was producing results! There was definitely phlegm in my throat-hole, and it didn't feel so dusty. Instead, every time I coughed sounded like the cracking of wood in a campfire. If you could reproduce that feeling inside of a person's chest, then that's probably what I was feeling, too.
I don't really remember much about Thursday. Mostly because I just did nothing but laid around and tried to feel better.
I woke up this morning (and several times throughout the night) drenched in sweat, rolling around in my cold, wet sheets and blankets hoping that this would all be over soon. My temperature was down to about a solid 99 when I got up.
Unfortunately, my head still felt like a punching bag for Sonny Liston, so it was hard to perceive any real improvement in my condition.
Every time I get up to walk, it feels like I'm going to fall over or, at the least, stumble into a wall.
At least I have the next two days off to rest and recuperate before work on Monday.
Hopefully I feel less like a bubble on the brink of popping.
Hopefully I breathe less like a hurricane waiting to snatch unsuspecting citizens in its might and malice.
Hopefully I cough less like a campfire snapping bits of wood up in its fervent, orange jaws.
Hopefully.
oubliette:
Yikes, you were sick! Poor moustachio. I hope you don't die.