I’m Back from the Dead

December 15, 2009

Oh hi everyone. Have you been wondering where I’ve been?

…..what do you mean “no”?

I’m going to pretend you didn’t all just think that, and will continue on to fill you in on what I’ve been doing for the past week.

I had the flu.

And not just any flu. I had what the experts are so lovingly calling H1N1.

Swine flu.

Or as I was calling it — “Shoot Me In The Head and Kill Me Now Because Death is Better Than This” Flu.

So settle in for story time kids….

It all began Tuesday. I started to get a cough. And every time I coughed, I thought my chest was going to explode.

Exaggeration? Maybe. But it still hurt like hell.

And I was really sore. I thought it was because of the awesome workout I had gotten the night before from the Wii fitness games we were goofing around with.

I should have known something was amiss.

But, being the trooper I am, I made it through work, trudged home, and diligently took my temperature. The verdict? 98.4. No fever.

Woo hoo!

So what do I do? I did what any other moron would do.

I went to the gym and ran.

I think I thought I could sweat any sickness I had right out of my body. Besides, I didn’t have a fever, so I couldn’t actually be sick.

Well, needless to say, the 5k I ran on the treadmill felt like a God damn marathon. I was panting heavier than a fat kid who’s been stranded in the dessert with no food for 10 days and just spotted a chocolate cake mirage in the distance.

So again, what do I do?

Well, first I stretched, because we all know how important it is to stretch after a marathon.

Then I trudged home for the second time that day, diligently took my temperature for the second time that day, and low and behold, it was up to 99.7.

Nothing to write home about, but still. At this point, I was getting nervous.

Being the paranoid freak that I am, I continued to take my temperature every half hour for the next 2 or 3 hours and watched it steadily climb to 100.5.

At that point, I did what every other independent 27 year old living in Boston by themselves would do.

I called my mom.

Once I got her full sympathy and reassurance that it was ok to be sick, I let myself succumb to the evils of the swine.

Wednesday, my temp was up to 101.5. I don’t remember the last time I had a fever, so I had forgotten how much it sucks.

It hurt to move.

It hurt to blink.

It hurt to even have my bedsheets covering me.

And don’t even get my started on how bad my head hurt.

Oh and have you ever swallowed an entire package of needles and had them get stuck in your throat?

(Please tell me none of you answered yes to that, but that’s what my throat felt like.)

But, lucky for me, I have a pretty cool boyfriend who stopped by Tuesday night with enough food and groceries to last me until the end of the year.

I’m still working my way through the stockpile of Low Sodium Progresso Chicken Noodle Soup he brought me.

Taking care of me and watching my salt intake? What a guy! 🙂

Anyway, I was out of work for most of last week, but I’m finally on the mend. I just have a nasty cough to contend with.

So no worries, my trusty readers.

I’m back.