I feel like crap. And it’s getting old.
Rob brought home some creepy crud flu-like thing a few weeks ago, and foolishly I caught it from him. It’s one of those insidious not quite bad enough to send you to the doctors but just awful enough to keep you from getting through the day upright things.
It started last Thursday evening, We attended a work function for Rob’s company. Swanky old-school railroad hotel in town with the dinner you follow the utensil tray from the outside in to eat. During the main course, I suddenly felt faint. Just whoosh. I don’t know what kept me from nose diving into the mashed potatoes and I was seriously worried about how I would make it to the door if I needed to make a quick dash for the ladies’ washroom.
But several glass of water and a cup of tea later, I managed a dignified exit and then shivered all the way to the vehicle and half-way home.
Friday, Saturday and Sunday found me in bed for several hours with ice packs on my eyes and zonked.
Sore throat, light-headed, swollen glands, tight chest with the most unproductive cough ever and the sorest ribs. Not to mention arms and legs that ached from top to nails.
And my armpits hurt?!
Tuesday I felt a tad better. Went to yoga in the AM. Taught yoga in the PM. In between I worked on writing and homework for a class I am taking. Yesterday, I wrote until the afternoon before heading into town to pick up Dee and take her to pottery. And then I was done. It hit and ramped up until I was forced to take to my bed early last evening.
I was up a bit this morning but I can hear the bed calling.
I hate being sick. Especially sick enough that I have to pay attention and do something about it. I am hoping to avoid the doctor. Cures are worse than illness and I still haven’t completely resigned myself to the Canadian healthcare system, but I couldn’t drive myself to town if I wanted to as bad as I feel.
So if you don’t hear from me for a few days, it’s because I am curled in a fetal position but hopefully not dead.