You know, there’s nothing like feeling better after feeling like complete crap. I tend to get hit pretty hard when I’m sick, and there’s always that one day where it comes on like a mofo and I feel like I’ll never be the same again. And I whine and complain and sleep and sleep and sleep (and watch a little TV every now and then…)
And then, the very next day I feel just fine. Fine and–dare I say–dandy.
It’s weird, you know. This whole thing started on Sunday (really I think it started on Friday, but I managed to ignore it ’til Sunday) and grew into a nasty case of The Crud, and I hit that ‘please just make it stop for the love of god’ phase right around Tuesday afternoon and by Wednesday morning I was pretty much a useless sack of mucus.
I woke up this morning and felt like crap, and I forced myself into the shower and onto the bus (yes, my car’s still in the shop, and no, I don’t know how much this is going to cost me). Somewhere in between there I made it to the grocery store, hoovered behind this guy who was choosing the perfect cold medicine for his perfect little girlfriend who had a perfect little cold. Ugh. I was about to duke it out with her right then and there over who felt the worst. I had the sweats and a little bit of that ‘I’ve been in bed for 36 hours and now I’m in the real world and what is this? how did I get here?” kind of delirium. And my nose was drippy and my lungs were clogged with what I am pretty sure were baby slugs. And my head wasn’t so much throbbing, but sure as heck wasn’t aware that it could survive without being in constant pain. It was almost as though the pain was what was holding me up. It was my motivation to return to the land of the living.
My toenails hurt.
The air around my skin hurt.
But I had to get to work. Had to.
And there was perfect little boyfriend and perfect little girlfriend with her perfect little cold and their perfect little search for the perfect little remedy.
They made the air hurt even more.
Then somehow I made it to the checkout and paid money for the drugs I’d selected. (For some reason I intentionally selected something that wasn’t what the perfect little couple deemed the perfect little drug.) And I made it to the bus stop and I made it to work and I made it to my office and I made it through the sending and reading and responding to email after email after email and I worked on stuff I should have finished a week ago and I ate a few bites of bad lentil soup and I sipped on Pepsi.
And I felt better. Not so much like that, but slowly, gradually. I went from crappy, to functional crappy to craptastic to fine with a touch of slug lung.
And now, here I am, feeling better, feeling very thankful for whatever it was that made the bad germs leave my body.
(Oh, and yes, I did say ‘mofo.’)