Down in The Bed

To the tens of readers wondering where I've been the last few days, it is with great pleasure (NOT) to inform you I've been laid up in the bed with some kind of crap that has knocked me on my butt so hard, I couldn't get up for two days. I had a 102 plus fever for thirty hours and my sinus cavities throbbed so badly it felt as if my face had gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson. Every part of my body hurt, including my teeth. I haven't felt this bad in years. I'm on the mend and hope to be back to work tomorrow, but right now I'm taking it one hour at a time. My goal in the next two hours is to bathe away this sweaty layer of gunk left by the fever. Maybe later today I'll work my way up to eating something other than a can of mandarin oranges. I don't want to get carried away, though.

Illness has its stages. Not the average cold kind of illness. I'm talking about take to the bed sickness. It starts with that chill that makes you wonder if you're coming down with something, but you refuse to accept it initially. Which is what I did Sunday night. I couldn't get warm, but I thought I got chilled at a bonfire/weiner roast we had just been to. I knew something was wrong after I'd been to bed for a couple of hours and still couldn't get warm despite being sandwiched between Hubby, the dog, a comforter and a wool blanket. The next stage is accepting your fate and giving in to it. Curling up in the fetal position in bed and begging everyone to leave you alone with instructions to check on you once an hour to see if you've expired. I had trouble sleeping yesterday because my body hurt so badly, and the daylight seeping through the shades hurt my eyes. There was also the matter of the phone ringing off the wall. Wrong numbers. The electronics store thanking us for buying a TV from them Saturday. The Cingular store thanking us for buying a cell phone from them Saturday. I would have turned off the phone if I'd had the strength to get out of bed, but I couldn't lift all the blankets I had layered on me. Depending on your illness, this waller in the sweaty bed in your own skank and want to die stage can go on for one to several days. Thank goodness there was no pukefest with this adventure.

My fever finally broke around four this morning. That brought on stage three, starting to take little steps toward basic hygiene and venturing outside the bedroom and bathroom. It's nice when you don't have to debate with youself anymore about whether you feel up to crawling out of bed and sliding on your stomach to the bathroom to pee. Without going into detail I will say that a trip to the potty this morning was evidence that I need way more fluids. I wanted to drink more water yesterday. I just didn't have the energy to reach it. Just out of curiousity, I stepped on the scales and found that I had lost five pounds. At another time in my life this would be thrilling news. I've always said a good case of the flu is better than any fad diet. But right now, I need all of my pounds, so I have some catching up to do in the eating department.

I have shed my layers of warm in stages, the last being the raggety old housecoat. I'm down to the nasty pajamas now. They're all going into the washing machine when I take a shower. The shower should signal the beginning of stage five, sitting up and moving around for the rest of the day. This stage usually involves the futil search for something good on TV. I've seen the TV Guide and my choices are going to be limited to crappy, ten year old movies, the insipid "Whose Wedding is it Anyway" and endless episodes of "The Barefoot Contessa". I'd read a book, but it makes me dizzy to look at the lines. In fact, I'm getting dizzy just typing. Stage six will come later tonight. That will involve going to bed early, say 8pm, so that maybe I'll have the strength to go to work tomorrow. Right now, I'm focusing on the shower. Oh, and the dog. I'm home alone today, and he hasn't been out since 4:30 this morning. His bladder is getting full, and I need to psyche myself up for a trip outself. Pray for me brothers and sister. It's a long walk to the yard.