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Sunday, March 8, 2015

The worst sick ever.

I am slowly wading out of the worst sickness I've ever had in my entire life.  I would say it felt like a cross between the plague and ebola.  But worse.  But probably not actually, but for me it sure did.  

I would describe it as what most people call the "flu", but I have a friend who is an infectious disease specialist and she said that the flu really is lethargy, sore throat, and fever.  Um, no.  Those - and I can be VERY clear on this - were NOT even remotely my symptoms.  

I would describe my symptoms as what happens when you periodically and involuntarily fall asleep on your cold, hard, bathroom floor and crawl around putting hand towels on your bare skin because you just broke into a sweat five minutes ago, ripped off your sweating clothes and now are freezing, but can't put your clothes back on 1) because of the effort it would entail, 2) because you probably puked on them somewhere, and 3) because they are waaaaaay over there (definition: anything farther than directly in front of you).  

But then you get a great idea to fill up the hot water bottle that is (luckily) there in the bathroom so you could get warm, unfortunately getting up onto your knees to reach your arm into the sink and see if the water is hot also makes you puke, and you have to abort mission and go back to your faithful position sitting dejectedly in front of your toilet.  When you get enough determination to fill that stupid water bottle up again, you get too tired holding it up, so you yank it away and put the top on it, realizing too late it has only about 3 oz. of tepid water in it.  BUT WHO CARES, because you are freezing your butt off now and clinging to it like a delirious mother gripping an infant in the middle of a nuclear war zone in a distorted, twitching fetal position.  You wish blankets would magically appear, but then you consider that that would mean doing so much laundry (a blanket touching the TOILET??!) that you realize it is far better to suffer and convulse on the tile floor.  (Yet you have - ironically? - no problem at all using your luxurious blankie [hand towel] as a quasi-pillow directly on top of the toilet seat lid.)  

What could be worse?  

Oh, but then you find out.  Don't ever even wonder that question in the throes of such things, my dears!  

Your guts decide that they have had enough of doing just one thing at a time, so they want to multitask that puppy of a germ out of you.  Yes, that's right!  Gastro-intestinal multitasking.  That picture is really cute and it looks like you, now seated on the toilet, gripping a bucket in your lap, closing your eyes and praying for Jesus to come back and take you to heaven right now.  You get to repeat this exact same multitasking project every five to fifteen minutes for 3 hours, as if the first 2 hours of the toilet hugging were not fun enough for you, because DANG IT, your guts want you to know that they are hard-working and efficient!!  

At 2:00 a.m., you imagine that you literally could not possibly have a single ounce of anything left inside your whole body, so you crawl in droopy sluglike fashion to your bed, whereupon you realize that you are still freezing cold and just lay there shaking while your legs have their own mini-seizures independent of you, which mostly just irritates you because you are SO. DANG. TIRED.  

Finally, you fall asleep, mostly in order that you can wake up every single hour for no reason, except to think of how thirsty you are, and start dreaming about drinking the amount of water that is in one of those Gatorade coolers that they dump on coaches when they win the Rose Bowl.  After the fourth time waking up for this reason, you realize you really ought to get a drink because JUST MAYBE you MIGHT be dehydrated or something.  But it's all the waaaay over theeere and how can you drink without lifting your head up?  Can you pour a cup sideways into your mouth?  Let's try it.  Not super successful, but good enough, and who cares, this drool of water isn't anything compared to the tornado of chaos that you left the night before in messes.  

The next day comes.  You're supposed to do stuff.  

Yeah.  Right.  Bite me, stuff.  

Whatever those children were doing for that entire day, you are not sure, but they sounded like they were probably fine (the coma-like state you were in prevented you from deciphering reality and dream world, anyway, so it's anybody's guess).  I mean, they can make sandwiches and everything, so they can totes survive a day!  There was no getting out of bed that day.  No lifting of the head.  Just the lovely alteration between being drenched in your own puddle of sweat and freezing your guts off to pass the time.  The night came again, and so hey, why not sleep some more.  Sleeping for 30 hours is always the pinnacle of success for winners, that's what I've always heard, so blam - go for it!  

do not drown, lifeguard cannot hold breath long enough to save you

Alas, what a winner I am.  (I'm like the kind of winner who tries to win warm up at a practice.)

But hey, on a positive note, I found a great way to get that BMI down to 17.9 and it's all natural and organic!  It does have some bad side-effects (as described previously) but I mean, come on, think of the benefits.  Obvs.  

Now, coming out of it, my house seems to have creatively rearranged itself (Question: how is it that the people who have lived here for their entire lives don't know where things go?  Does this seem weird to anyone else?  And I'm totally not bashing my hubby, because he held up the fort.  I meant the offsprings.  Baffling.).  

Anyway, I'm going to go wash some door knobs and take another nap.  

Peace, love, and someone should totally invent a cozy bathroom bed (bet it would just sell like hotcakes!),
Ms. Daisy

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