I'm the girl who always got sick as a kid, then got mono after college and thought I'd never be the same again, then lapsed into a suspicious healthfulness in early adulthood, only to hit the bricks at the age of 35, whereupon I was seized with three dread diseases over the course of 10 months.
True, this bout doesn't rival the last one, but it's a solid 6 on the Richter scale. I look like I'm hiding walnuts in my neck. And I know that's a terrible description and yes, it would be more meaningful if it made just a little bit of sense. The truth remains. You have never seen glands so large. I feared that they might burst in my sleep. (Has anyone heard of spontaneous gland rupture? Don't answer that.)
Cory took a photo earlier today, when they weren't even at their peak. You don't even want to see the picture. You can't handle the glands.
After my own personal March Madness 2012, I planned to get a flu shot this year for the first time...but hadn't gotten around to it yet.
The good news is, this isn't the flu. There's still time to get the flu! There's still time to make good use of a flu shot! Hurrah!
I drove all shivery and achey-jointed to the doctor on Friday, very sure I had strep. Negative. Flu? Nah. What I have is called "The Crud". That's the scientific diagnosis I received for a mere $70 and I'm not even playing. I went home cold and hot and poorer and unmedicated, rueing the day that doctors stopped making house calls and taking payment in handicrafts or root vegetables. I was so very woeful.
The boston cream doughnut and hot chocolate helped a little.
That's the weird part - my appetite has remained large and in-charge through the duration of my illness.
Cory, having stepped up to the plate in a major way, has kept me nourished via Taco Bell runs (there may have been a better way to word that) and microwaved soup. He has delivered cups of hot tea, clementines, and Tylenol that didn't come close to cracking my fever. (In the words of a dear friend, "You're the only old lady I know who still gets fevers!" Pass the baby aspirin.) We hit a low point when he came home from Kroger with liquid Nyquil - green liquid Nyquil. Even Cory can't be awesome all the time. (His defense, "It was right there on the end! It was on sale! This is what I think of when I think of Nyquil!") (Nyquil people? You may want to dial up PR if your most repulsive product is what springs to mind when someone thinks of your brand. Or maybe it's just Cory.) Greenishness aside, I slept better last night, though all of my dreams still revolved around telling other people how bad my throat hurt.
The kids have taken turns running into my bedroom to give me important updates like, "Silas is shaking his booty!" or "Ruby stepped on Charles!"
Calvin arrived last night in his worker guy shirt/doctor's coat and gave me a proper medical exam. He couldn't give me a diagnosis either, as he was "too busy with the medicaids". He read me some random verses from his Bible and begged for illness-related errands, so I sent him for a box of tissues and had him put a jar of applesauce in the friedge. He also brought me the beanie baby with the shamrock (for luck) and the one with the heart (because he misses me) and his referral picture, which is so dang precious that I have no choice but to share it with all of you.
Ruby arrives now and then to pet my hair and hug me.
Me: Do I smell kinda stinky?
Rubes: Um, yes. A little bit. (keeps hugging me)
Silas scratches my back and tells me to take medicine. He also gave me his beloved key-light. "You can keep it. You can share it with your honey."
I miss my family. I don't like being out of the loop. Also? I really can't handle the thought of passing this along to any more of them.
So I'm mostly holed up, by my lonesome.
Unlike last time, when I was so close to death's door that I couldn't even watch TV for six days straight, I've gotten caught up on some
Today, I forged my re-entry into civilization by simply going downstairs. I showered and did laundry. I drank a little fizz. I threw some more bling on the tree.
Tomorrow, all bets are off. Sick or well, the day will be ready for me.
Wish me luck.