I Hate Being Sick

Being sick is such a motherfucker. Back in August, Dani and I both got sick – we’ve since agreed that it was food poisoning – and it lasted for weeks. We were running to bathrooms for a good chunk of that month! Many plans were foiled!

Now, October. I’m sick! AGAIN! This time it is 100% a flu. My Saturday was plain as toast. Come Sunday I had a tickle in my throat, nothing out of the ordinary, though. Sometimes I wake up and I just have a real dry throat that lasts for the morning. This particular one lasted more than the morning. It lasted all day, and my nose wouldn’t stop leaking!

By the time the night was over, my nose was a faucet that I could not turn off. I was gonna spend Monday with Dani, but my sickness decided NERP. When Dani and I got to her place, I was burning. Everywhere. Even my eye lids! I was gonna spend the night eating and writing with Dani, but instead I was passed out like a chump around midnight. I’ve got all these wonderful foods just for snacking that I’ve stashed in the fridge, but I didn’t get to have so much as a slice of salami! DAMN MY BODY, DAMN IT WITH THE VERY FIRES IN WHICH MY FEVER WAS CREATED!

I woke at 5:45am on Monday morning. The only people that do that are people in emergency services! I woke up, completely soaked in my own sweat, desperately fumbled for water and acetaminophen and made a silent pee. I thought maybe I’d feel better when I woke up later. Nope. Nope, nope. I could barely get back to sleep!

Dani woke up just after 7:30am. She was gonna wake up earlier but I’d mistaken her phone for mine and switched off the alarm as it went off. Just how sick I was became apparent when she woke up. I was completely on fire, wet like the ocean, and my head was a swamp. Dani was saintly in all this, she prepped the most delicious smelling puchero, knowing my love of potatoes (she puts them in because I love ‘em) and ginger.

For at least two hours, she was checking in on my nearly lifeless body, kind of turning me over so I’d not sweat myself into hypothermia. The best thing she did, that anyone could have done, was the washcloth. OH MY SWEET JESUS! She put a cool washcloth on my forehead and it was THE VERY BEST MOST AMAZING THING! If I were a starving man on a desert island, this washcloth would be more satisfying than any drink or food! She must have swapped the washcloth at least four times.

I completely, entirely soaked her bed. All three pillows soaked. The main pillow I used? It had to be put aside to DRY, the actual PILLOW became a sponge! The sheets were completely wet, like I’d tried to bathe in ‘em.

Once I was stable enough to open my eyes, I got up. I wish I could have had some of that soup! The thought of puchero or sinigang right now fills me with a desperate want! Such magical broths! I eventually showered, which felt amazing, and helped Dani swap out the bed sheets and pillows. When I could, I got my butt to the bus stop and started my way home. The crisp, cool air was amazing. It was the only time I could breathe. Did I mention fuck being sick? Because fuck being sick.

The rest of Monday was hacking, wheezing and otherwise soaking whatever surface I came into contact with.

Tuesday was a repeat of Monday to start. Woken up to pools of sweat at 5:45am, now with the added glory of a hacking cough! YAY! Thankfully, my family had cough syrup on hand which did enough of the job, but that was a miserable-ass night’s sleep. Things are a bit shinier now, towards the evening, I’ve started to regain my footing, despite an otherwise blocked sinus system and bruised throat.

But at least I wasn’t shitting myself silly, thank all the gods!

(Header image taken from MarketWatch.)


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