This is not a plea for sympathy, nor a cry for back pats.
Just a rant of sorts.
In the last twenty years, with the exception of hangovers when I was drinking, I only got sick twice. I just never caught anything.
This weekend Ruth brought home a very “special” gift from the pharmacy where she works. It kicked in late Friday and she ended up spending the entire weekend out cold. Every few hours she would come out of her hibernation and take more NyQuil and drink a bottle of water, then back to bed.
This sucked because I hate to see my wife sick. But also I had no one to talk to and I played a lot of spider solitaire.
Well, Sunday night came around and I started getting dizzy. My head hurt, and all my joints ached. I had a fever. I started coughing deep deep coughs that seemed to come from my bowels.
I was sick.
Really sick.
As a result, I spent all day Monday in bed under many covers sweating it out. No eating, just sleeping and liquids. By late Monday night a started to feel better. Not healthy yet, but better.
The main thing I hate about being sick is the complete lack of control. The body does all sorts of things to mess you up and all you can do is take it and make a feeble attempt with pills to stop it.
I also hate the weird delirium dreams I have, this time out it was lots of square shapes…….
I’m off, back to bed.