I'm sick. I feel like I've been sick since... well, forever. Okay, I'm exaggerating it's actually since last Tuesday but seriously, that's almost a week!!!!
If you know me well, you'll know that I have no patience for anything that slows me down and stops me from doing what I want to do - sickness included. And most of the time I'm pretty good at powering through whatever bug or injury has been kind enough to grace me with it's presence. Every now and then, however, something comes along that decides this whole 'mind over matter' thing is a load of rubbish and kicks me right back on my ass.
This is one such nasty buggy and it has an evil sense of humor.
It started with a sore throat on Tuesday afternoon, closely followed by an all-encompassing sense of exhaustion that had me sleeping twelve hours. After giving in to Mr. Buggy with all that sleep, I felt certain I'd sent him packing.
Not so fast, he said. Wednesday's menu included a sore throat, swollen glands, stubborn headache, and again the urge to nap after every activity more energetic than lifting the remote control. Refusing to admit defeat, I grabbed hubbie for a latte and an evening drive through the countryside to see a house he had just sold, thinking I just needed some fresh air. This has to be the worst of it, I thought, dragging myself up the stairs to bed as if I had shackles on my ankles.
By Thursday, the sore throat had turned into a little cough but overall I was feeling better. Off to the office I went, thinking 'I sure showed Mr. Buggy.' That afternoon I began to lose my voice. Mr. Buggy, I was learning, likes to fake you out. But, no mind, off I went to a football game, yelling and screaming (well, ok more like squeaking and squarking) for England. By the time I got home I felt like someone had poured acid down my throat. All I needed, I thought in my naivety, was a good night's sleep.
On Friday I opened my mouth and pretty much nothing but an "eeek" came out. I continued to work, apologizing to my potential and current clients as I let all calls go to voicemail and replied to everyone via email. Still, I ignored the buzzing in my head and the need to nap, thinking I could just tune out Mr. Buggy.
Saturday had me feeling like I'd got it licked. While my voice was only little more than an "eeek" (now almost an "eeeeek"), overall I felt good. Hubbie and I jumped back in the car and headed out to Jackson Rancheria, an Indian Gaming Casino in the boonies of Amador County. We feasted in the buffet, gambled, and then headed home $10 richer. Yep, last of the great winners here. I went to bed Saturday night dreaming of waking up on Sunday with boundless energy, and the urge to do laundry and housework. (Hey, who said dreams had to have anything to do with reality.)
Mr. Buggy had other ideas.
Back came the headache, the utter exhaustion, the buzzing in my head, the coughing - all now coupled with the inability to breath through my nose. I managed to get some laundry done, inbetween laying on the sofa and groaning in defeat. If I'd had a white flag, honestly, I would have been waving it.
Mr. Buggy had won. I spent almost the entire day on the sofa, unable to move, barely able to keep my eyes open, and propped-up by pillows to ward-off the coughing fits. I didn't leave the 1400 square feet of my house all day, except to pick up hubbie whose car broke down.
It's now Monday and I'm still not 100%. Buzzing, coughing, a little tired still (although lord knows how.) But I didn't wake up at 4:30 to go to the gym this morning; I let myself sleep in. My white flag is quite firmly in the air.
I HATE being sick.
1 comment:
I'm like you, but less and less so. I've been learning to take care of myself first. As women we just don't do it enough, we're so busy showing everyone how tough we are. Well, screw it, I say, I'm a girl and I need my beauty rest. So there. Take care of yourself.
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