The Flu
There's an ugly strain of the flu going around Kentucky, and I managed to catch it.
I first noticed its effects Saturday. I had gone to the President's Ball on EKU's campus, and there was enough hacking, coughing, sneezing and wheezing to make it sound like a hospital, or your average kindergarten class. "I'll be fine; I'm tough, " I thought to myself. Many hugs, several face-to-face conversations and a couple of kisses later, I headed home around 1:00 AM.
When I woke up Saturday, I had a headache. Thinking nothing of it, I took a couple of ibuprofen and went about my business. As the day went on, the pain got worse, spreading to my back and my joints. By the end of the day, my skin and muscles hurt and my body felt like someone had beaten me with a two-by-four. I began to sniffle, and I felt weak. I wasn't really hungry but forced myself to eat coffee and dry toast.
Sunday about 1:30 AM I woke to find my throat sore and my voice low, growly and whispery. I was extremely weak, lightheaded, dizzy, burning up with fever and shivering so badly I thought I was having a seizure. "Ah God," I thought, "it's the flu."
I don't remember much of Sunday. I do remember getting my large 56-oz. insulated mug, filling it full of cold water and bringing it to my room. I slept a lot, dreamed a lot, and hallucinated a little. Apparently there's a little gnome-like dude living under my bed who resents the fact that I snore. Also, there's a talking alligator and a raven who like to argue. Sunday afternoon my thermometer said 102.6. I ate nothing that day, I don't think.
I felt a little better Monday--like I had died and been buried, then dug up and jumpstarted using a cheap battery and with icewater replacing the blood in my veins. The chills were so constant and so violent that I was exhausting myself just lying there in bed shaking. I made coffee and drank a half cup. I urinated frequently and copiously, mostly in the toilet. My sister brought orange juice, over-the-counter medicines and soup. And a box of tissues; by this time my nose was leaking like the radiator hose on an old truck. More hallucinations occurred. I became quite good friends with a large white bunny rabbit with a nervous twitch. We spoke of many things. Billie Jo's chinchilla, Andi, came down from Valhalla for a visit. He told me that he was a great warrior there. The temp reading on my thermometer read 104.4.
Tuesday morning about 5:00 AM my temperature finally broke. I woke up with the most blissful feeling of being cool without feeling like I was freezing. All my newfound friends were gone: the gnome, the alligator, the raven, the rabbit and Andi. Although sad to see them go, I had to admit to a feeling of relief. It was getting crowded in my little bedroom. I was particularly sad about Andi: he'd promised to introduce me to this Valkyrie he knew, who was just dying (he said) to meet me.
Although no longer burning up with fever, or spasming with chills, I was very weak. I slept most of Tuesday and Wednesday, getting up only to replenish my supply of water and orange juice and to make my aching bladder gladder. I did manage to eat most of a bowl of soup Tuesday, and all of a bowl of soup Wednesday. I even managed to drink some coffee, that fuel of the gods and middle-aged men. I was terribly afraid of a relapse for some reason, and found myself making comparisons to a hurricane: "This is the eye of the storm. The calm before the other half hits." As it turned out, that was and was not true.
By this time I was coughing, sneezing, wheezing and snotting quite badly, and my voice sounded like a bullfrog in a deep well. I coughed so hard and so long, my ribcage and stomach hurt, and I was hacking up blood. I assume the blood was from my raw throat. Every move I made was likely to set off a coughing fit. I ate so many Hall's cough drops (ginger-ale flavored--gah!) that they made me sick, and I ralphed a dozen or so of them up during one coughing fit. My stomach was so empty I yakked up coughdrop juice and bile, which was vile indeed.
By Thursday my running nose had cleared up somewhat, although I was still prone to coughing fits. Apparently my nose had cleared up into my lungs. I was still hacking up blood, and coughing so hard and so long that I saw little black sparkles before my eyes. My head, body and skin weren't hurting anymore, but I was as weak as a kitten. It was all I could do to make it from my bedroom to the couch in the livingroom. When I had to go to the bathroom, I found myself resting on the couch as a halfway point. I wheezed and crept around like a little old man. I had to walk with a cane for support! I was still sleeping a lot.
By Thursday evening I had decided that perhaps I might live. Although still weak, I was feeling my strength slowly creep back. I actually ate two meals for the day: oatmeal and coffee for breakfast and ramen and Kool-Aid for dinner. I was still sleeping more than 12 hours a day, and was still weak, but not coughing as much, although still pretty hard and still coughing up a trace of blood.
Friday I felt pretty good, relatively speaking, although my voice was still scratchy, hoarse and weak and I had trembling fits and sudden sweats if I tried to move faster than a slug. I know this because there was a slug in the kitchen who managed to escape me. I was trying to catch him to put him outside and he was determined to hide from me. He won. I was washing dishes, and wore myself out. I read and slept most of the rest of the day. I ate oatmeal for breakfast and fish and a can of corn for dinner.
I slept most of the day Saturday. My violent cough was nearly gone by Saturday afternoon, although at that point I began to hack up crud from my lungs. My nose continued to run, but at a slower pace. My throat had upgraded its condition to the "raw hamburger" stage. I was able, for the first time in nearly a week, to draw a full breath without trying to expell lung tissue. Still weak, I continued to rest. I had more oatmeal and coffee for breakfast, and some pizza for dinner.
I felt almost human Sunday. I continued to rest, although I briefly considered walking around outside. It was a nice moderate day for February. Although feeling better, I was still weak, and decided to wait.
Today is Monday, 10 days since I first felt the tickle in my head and throat. I decided to get out today before I went stir-crazy. Walking around this morning, I felt a little weak but good. The physical activity stirred the crud in my lungs up, and I've been expelling it, always a good thing. My nose has nearly dried up, and other than a little wheezing, I'm breathing good. Perhaps I'll live, after all.
I first noticed its effects Saturday. I had gone to the President's Ball on EKU's campus, and there was enough hacking, coughing, sneezing and wheezing to make it sound like a hospital, or your average kindergarten class. "I'll be fine; I'm tough, " I thought to myself. Many hugs, several face-to-face conversations and a couple of kisses later, I headed home around 1:00 AM.
When I woke up Saturday, I had a headache. Thinking nothing of it, I took a couple of ibuprofen and went about my business. As the day went on, the pain got worse, spreading to my back and my joints. By the end of the day, my skin and muscles hurt and my body felt like someone had beaten me with a two-by-four. I began to sniffle, and I felt weak. I wasn't really hungry but forced myself to eat coffee and dry toast.
Sunday about 1:30 AM I woke to find my throat sore and my voice low, growly and whispery. I was extremely weak, lightheaded, dizzy, burning up with fever and shivering so badly I thought I was having a seizure. "Ah God," I thought, "it's the flu."
I don't remember much of Sunday. I do remember getting my large 56-oz. insulated mug, filling it full of cold water and bringing it to my room. I slept a lot, dreamed a lot, and hallucinated a little. Apparently there's a little gnome-like dude living under my bed who resents the fact that I snore. Also, there's a talking alligator and a raven who like to argue. Sunday afternoon my thermometer said 102.6. I ate nothing that day, I don't think.
I felt a little better Monday--like I had died and been buried, then dug up and jumpstarted using a cheap battery and with icewater replacing the blood in my veins. The chills were so constant and so violent that I was exhausting myself just lying there in bed shaking. I made coffee and drank a half cup. I urinated frequently and copiously, mostly in the toilet. My sister brought orange juice, over-the-counter medicines and soup. And a box of tissues; by this time my nose was leaking like the radiator hose on an old truck. More hallucinations occurred. I became quite good friends with a large white bunny rabbit with a nervous twitch. We spoke of many things. Billie Jo's chinchilla, Andi, came down from Valhalla for a visit. He told me that he was a great warrior there. The temp reading on my thermometer read 104.4.
Tuesday morning about 5:00 AM my temperature finally broke. I woke up with the most blissful feeling of being cool without feeling like I was freezing. All my newfound friends were gone: the gnome, the alligator, the raven, the rabbit and Andi. Although sad to see them go, I had to admit to a feeling of relief. It was getting crowded in my little bedroom. I was particularly sad about Andi: he'd promised to introduce me to this Valkyrie he knew, who was just dying (he said) to meet me.
Although no longer burning up with fever, or spasming with chills, I was very weak. I slept most of Tuesday and Wednesday, getting up only to replenish my supply of water and orange juice and to make my aching bladder gladder. I did manage to eat most of a bowl of soup Tuesday, and all of a bowl of soup Wednesday. I even managed to drink some coffee, that fuel of the gods and middle-aged men. I was terribly afraid of a relapse for some reason, and found myself making comparisons to a hurricane: "This is the eye of the storm. The calm before the other half hits." As it turned out, that was and was not true.
By this time I was coughing, sneezing, wheezing and snotting quite badly, and my voice sounded like a bullfrog in a deep well. I coughed so hard and so long, my ribcage and stomach hurt, and I was hacking up blood. I assume the blood was from my raw throat. Every move I made was likely to set off a coughing fit. I ate so many Hall's cough drops (ginger-ale flavored--gah!) that they made me sick, and I ralphed a dozen or so of them up during one coughing fit. My stomach was so empty I yakked up coughdrop juice and bile, which was vile indeed.
By Thursday my running nose had cleared up somewhat, although I was still prone to coughing fits. Apparently my nose had cleared up into my lungs. I was still hacking up blood, and coughing so hard and so long that I saw little black sparkles before my eyes. My head, body and skin weren't hurting anymore, but I was as weak as a kitten. It was all I could do to make it from my bedroom to the couch in the livingroom. When I had to go to the bathroom, I found myself resting on the couch as a halfway point. I wheezed and crept around like a little old man. I had to walk with a cane for support! I was still sleeping a lot.
By Thursday evening I had decided that perhaps I might live. Although still weak, I was feeling my strength slowly creep back. I actually ate two meals for the day: oatmeal and coffee for breakfast and ramen and Kool-Aid for dinner. I was still sleeping more than 12 hours a day, and was still weak, but not coughing as much, although still pretty hard and still coughing up a trace of blood.
Friday I felt pretty good, relatively speaking, although my voice was still scratchy, hoarse and weak and I had trembling fits and sudden sweats if I tried to move faster than a slug. I know this because there was a slug in the kitchen who managed to escape me. I was trying to catch him to put him outside and he was determined to hide from me. He won. I was washing dishes, and wore myself out. I read and slept most of the rest of the day. I ate oatmeal for breakfast and fish and a can of corn for dinner.
I slept most of the day Saturday. My violent cough was nearly gone by Saturday afternoon, although at that point I began to hack up crud from my lungs. My nose continued to run, but at a slower pace. My throat had upgraded its condition to the "raw hamburger" stage. I was able, for the first time in nearly a week, to draw a full breath without trying to expell lung tissue. Still weak, I continued to rest. I had more oatmeal and coffee for breakfast, and some pizza for dinner.
I felt almost human Sunday. I continued to rest, although I briefly considered walking around outside. It was a nice moderate day for February. Although feeling better, I was still weak, and decided to wait.
Today is Monday, 10 days since I first felt the tickle in my head and throat. I decided to get out today before I went stir-crazy. Walking around this morning, I felt a little weak but good. The physical activity stirred the crud in my lungs up, and I've been expelling it, always a good thing. My nose has nearly dried up, and other than a little wheezing, I'm breathing good. Perhaps I'll live, after all.