If you got what I got…you’re welcome!

I love touting the fact that I don’t get sick.  If I feel like my throat is getting sore, or I have a slight sniffle, I grab for my bottle of echinacea and start taking a pill three times a day.   I ensure that I have at least a tablespoon of honey and that there is a nice hot tea that will keep me warm and hydrated.  Yes, that usually does the trick.  Oh, and I like to tell myself, and everyone else, that I am NOT sick.  Lying to myself is usually the best way to ensure that the little germs and virus and bacteria stay away from my humble body.  Well, this time the “bug-ger” got through.  No denying it.  I am sick!

I am sick of being sick.  I have actually been staving off this stupid illness since 2017.  It has been trying to lay waste to my body since about August of last year.  My tried and true methods were tried and true then.  When everyone had sinus infections, plugged ears, ratchety or phlegmy coughs, horrendous sneezes and other germ spreading conditions, I had managed to stay healthy.  Oh sure, there was the occasional whisper of a sneeze.  Sometimes there was a bit of a scratchy throat, but I prevailed.  Nay, I conquered!  What the hell happened this time?

Oh sure, I heard people at work sneezing, but I was fortified with vitamin C.  My apple a day, my healthy vegetables.  I washed my hands to the point of cracked dryness.  Why oh why did I suddenly end up like this?

I am weak.  The thought of getting out of bed leaves me in anguish.  That would mean lifting my 100 lb head off the pillow.  That would mean getting out of a nice, warmed up area and exposing my hot, sweaty body to the frigid cold of the room.  21 degrees celsius or 70 degrees fahrenheit.  Brrrrr.  The thought of motion, leaves me weak.  Can I make it all the way down those stairs to get to the bathroom?  Will my knees give out?  Will my head loll forward, making me lose my balance, thus having me careen down the stairs?  What if I can’t lift myself off the toilet once I have completed my duties (doody?).

Why do my eyes feel like sandpaper?  It hurts when I try to look around.  Even blinking doesn’t help.  There is this immense pressure just in behind them.  Or is that beside them?  Huh…seems like it’s in between my eyes.  Yes, that’s where it is.  If I manage to raise a hand to touch the side of my nose it feels like my eyes are going to bug out and fall to the floor.  I think my half-closed eyelids are managing to keep those vision balls in my head.

Oh…my head.  My brain is trying to think of stuff.  It’s trying really hard, but there is this weird fog up there.  As I type, I see my fingers moving, but am not sure how.  My burning eyes are looking at them because those flesh-coloured sticks seem to be moving on their own.  My grey matter can’t be telling them what to do.  All the penthouse presider is thinking is, “why aren’t we in bed sleeping?”

I recall being at the top of the stairs.  Then I recall being in the bathroom.  Then stuff gets misty.  No more recall.  Ah, I see a cup of tea beside me.  Huh…must’ve made that at some point.  Good call brain!

I thought it was a good call.  I burnt my tongue.  Then again, it doesn’t matter because I can’t really taste anything anyway.  There is this blanket, a white blanket, covering my tongue.  So, burnt tongue may not taste anything, but it definitely felt something.  While its charred, maybe I should have some nutritious soup.  That should help heal me.  It has worked in the past.  I’ll add my echinacea to the mix and some man-made ibuprofen and the dinnertime cocktail with healing powers is ready to go.  This will entail more walking.

My brain is saying something.  Move feet.  Move feet.  *shuffling feet*  Well, it’s a start.  Now arms.  Lift.  Why won’t my arms listen to my instructions?  I command them to lift up and yet they just hang there, listlessly, by my side.  We need to heat up soup pronto.

“Go to bed,” brain murmurs.

“I need food,” says…is that my brain too?  OMG I am getting a split personality!

“Go to bed,” Brain 1.

“I’m hungry,” Brain 2.

Achoo! *sniffle*.  Great!  Now there is something running down my face.  At least I have feeling in my face.  That’s a good thing right?  Heading way too close to my lips.  Time to blow my nose.  Oh good.  One of the brains has decided that my feet and hands can work again.  Itchy, watery eyes have honed in on the box of facial tissue.  *shuffle, shuffle, shuffle* and hand reach.  Looks like the body is working in harmony again. Blow nose, discard germy tissue and while I’m funtioning as a human again I will get that soup going to boil.

(Time passes).  Empty bowl in front of me.  Numb tongue.  Belly full.  I think I ate my soup.  I feel full.  Time to lumber up, sloth style…nice and slow…and fall back into bed.

If all goes well, my energy conservation and my healthy meal should give me enough germ fighting energy to get me back up on my feet again tomorrow.  Another day in which my brain will function as one unit.  My body will listen to all its orders.  My sinuses will happily drain out leaving me with wide-opened, focused eyes and no throbbing pressure.  I will LIVE again.  I will be happy to have survived this debilitating flu!

I will be so thankful and grateful!  I will spread joy and happiness to everyone!  Or maybe I’ll just spread this virus around and share the misfortune.  Sometimes, by living through the bad, you really appreciate all the good you have.  So, if you got what I got, then all I can say is “you’re welcome!”

Transmogrified, Evil Villain…

Life is great!  I am happy!  Cough…Happy!  Cough cough!  What the heck is going on?  Hmmm, there is a wee tickle in my throat.  Ahem, ahem…cough cough.  HACK-COUGH!   My nose is itchy.  What is this?  There is leakage from my nasal passages.  Grab a facial tissue and blow my nose.  Blow again.  One more time!  Phew!  Think I got it all.  Great!  Wait a minute.  I can’t hear anymore.  What is going on?  I don’t have a fever or anything.  What new strain of evilness is this?  Yes, it appears I have a cold.  If it is so normal then why do I feel so AB-normal?

I have become a transmogrified evil villain!  I am usually the upbeat “Pollyanna” type rooting for everything good in the world!  “You can do this!”  I exclaim.  “Live in denial!” I yell to myself.  This self-lie usually works to trick my body into thinking that I am not ill.  It’s not real.  I can get past this.  Yet, here I am on day 9 (yes day 9) and I have managed to get hearing back in one ear.  The Super Cough has diminished to a mere whisper of its previous potency.  My bruised ribs have finally stopped screaming at me so I guess I actually did not crack any ribs in cough-a-lot episodes.  My sinuses…oh my…those beauties made my eyes look like fish eyes…all bulgy and watery.  Why am I describing my ailments?  I believe it is vitally important to share information that might make others feel better about their life situation, knowing that there are “others” like them.

To be honest, the reason I bring up my gross illness is because I have become a horrible human being.  I have become an uber, ugly, vindictive “reality show” type personality on the person I love.

When you get sick as a parent, you are not allowed to show weakness.   You are the doctor.  You are the nurse.  You are the most patient and understanding person in their lives.  When they say their teardrop hurts their cheek, it’s a reality you need to remedy to make them sleep.  However, when the children are out of the house and you become ill, you finally get to plead illness (and insanity).  Who gets the brunt of your illness woes?  Your bestie!  The person who will always be there for you through thick and thin.  It’s true right?

Think about it.  Wiseguy told me right from the beginning that one crucial element of a good relationship is:  COMMUNICATION!  For those of you who do not understand what that means, I shall simplify.  If there is something that is bothering you and you are holding it inside instead of talking about it, that means you are NOT communicating.  This would be a perfect example of my parent’s household.

In my parents house if you were upset, you held it in because there was no point in discussing issues.  Parents were always right.  Siblings?  No talk…more about actions and getting even (bwahaha!).  So, now I had to learn this “talk” thing.

For those of you who were taught manners and behaving properly and “be sure not to offend anyone” this was a difficult task.  After several years I got the hang of it.  It’s not about yelling and picking on each other, it’s actually discussing things, in adult words, no F-bombs.  It’s sharing thoughts, ideas, opinions.  It really does work.  Well, it works while you are both of sound mind.  When one gets sick, sense and sensibility gets thrown out and the evil “sick” monster takes over.

As previously mentioned, I have been the caretaker for many.  If I did get ill (i.e.”West Nile Virus), I still had my father-on-law come to me whilst I was lying on the couch and ask me: “What’s for dinner?”  Yes, it’s true.  When children get sick, parents don’t get timeouts.  It doesn’t matter how tired you are, the children are most important and one day you hope you will have time to sleep.  So, here I am, 20 years later, sick myself, and I am incorrigible.

I have been apologizing to Wiseguy on an almost hourly basis!  Why?  Because I am yelling at him for not speaking loudly enough for me to hear him.  My ears are plugged.  When my one ear canal finally opened up I complained that he was talking too loudly.  Even better… he now has whatever ailment I have and I am complaining when he can’t hear me!  I am agitated.  I am irritated!  I can’t hear properly.  I keep throwing verbal darts at Wiseguy.  He can do nothing right.  He made me a beautiful breakfast and I complained about the pan he used.  Cruel!?  For sure!

So, this little story is two-fold:

To Cold Sufferers:  You are not in your normal state of mind.  When you find that you are going crazy and verbally assaulting those you love, remember to apologize for being an intolerable pain.

To my hubby:  You are the best!  You should get hazard pay for dealing with my psycho-sicko mood swings.  I’m here for you.  (I hear you coughing right now.  Thanks for letting me share my unhealthy goodness with you!  Bwahaha!)

P.S.  Although I am of the elder-world, I find that many children’s books can simply explain life’s difficulties.  As adults we find “big words” to explain our life situations.  Over the past few days, in my whiny state of mind, I thought about how “horrible” I felt and recalled one of my all time favourite stories.  It made me laugh out loud (nowadays known as LOL):  Alexander and the Horrible, Terrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.

Do you have a favourite storybook?  If so, what is so special about it?