By the time you read this, I’ll be back among the living, but not too long ago, I was so far under the weather that I couldn’t even see the sky. I missed seven days of work. The triangle of my existence shrank down to the real estate between my bed, the bathroom, and the recliner. As I write this, I’m still there, for the most part, but getting fidgety.
This malady hit me like a ton of bricks. I was driving home from work. When I got in the car, I was doing fine. About halfway home I got a little tickle in my throat. By the time I walked in the door, my sinuses were full of the yellow snot of death.
By the evening of day three I was crying the tears of despair that tend to come when I hit rock bottom in any major health disaster. I was done. The next day I went to the doctor. Negative for covid. Negative for RSV. Negative for flu and strep. And it wasn’t pneumonia, because there was no lung involvement. Her conclusion was that I had a nasty virus that had been going around since Thanksgiving. And it’s highly contagious.
It’s really annoying to be laid low by something that doesn’t have a commonly recognized name. It makes it hard to be taken seriously. But after following all the doctor’s instructions, I began to feel relatively human a week later. All told, it was 10 days of hell. Am I crazy, or have viruses become more insidious over time?
Each day felt like a decade, and that gave me ample opportunity to think about how things have changed in terms of recovery, as well. In the late 80’s when I found myself sprawled upon death’s doorstep, I used to think that if I died, it would be several days before anyone found the body. I never thought I’d be grateful for social media, but I am.
Of course, I’m married now, too, and Dear Husband has been a lifesaver. But if for some reason he weren’t here, there’s also grocery delivery, Teladoc, pharmacy delivery and Amazon Prime, so I wouldn’t want for anything. Back in the day, starving to death was as big a fear as the malady itself.
And then there’s the boredom factor. I remember my 8-week recovery from major surgery back in 1999. One of the cruelest ironies of illness is that I am too tired to read when I’m really sick, and there is only so much Jerry Springer you can watch without veering uncomfortably close to turning into one of his guests. Now, with streaming channels, I can watch anything on demand, between naps. I’ve been watching this fascinating series called You, for example. Highly recommended.
My conclusion is that feeling like crap today is even worse than in times past in terms of its levels of torture. But on the plus side, there’s more to do, more resources to access, and less chance of being discovered after rigor mortis has set in. Being sick 30 years ago was awful, but it could also be terrifying. I doubt this generation will ever truly understand that. It’s really important to count your blessings, even when feeling far from blessed.
I hope this blog post finds you well, dear reader. And for the love of God, take advantage of any vaccines available, as I have. I was told that, believe it or not, I could have had it much worse . Also, wear a mask in public places, and wash your hands. You really don’t want what I had. Trust me on that.
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