I actually was about to get very weepy last night as I was trying to get to sleep...
A week ago today, I realized that I was coming down with something, very likely a cold. As one unwise (sometimes) does, I went to pub with the idea that a pint might help stave things off, or at least help me convince myself that I was NOT about to come down with a cold. Ironically, the first guy I saw there greeted me with a, "Hi, Bryan, it seems you are coming down with a cold, huh?"
"I certainly hope not, but I do not know, yet," I responded.
I left the pub after that beer, met up with a couple of other guys further down the street for another beer, then was home and in bed close to 10pm.
Tuesday, I felt it best to avoid coffee (gasp), and spent my working day sipping green tea. Again, early to bed, where I read for an hour before nodding off.
Wednesday, I realized that congestion was setting in. I managed to get through the working day, as well as deplete my stock pile of green tea. Thus, I headed off to the supermarket around 7pm to stock up on juice, tea, other fluids, other foodstuffs, and ice cream. En route, I bumped into a friend, explained that I was fighting off a cold, so would not see him later on that evening (as part of the weekly meet up for a couple of beers Wednesday nights). He wished me a "Gute Besserung," and I collected my purchases at the store and made for the safety of home.
Thursday morning, I actually thought I was going to be OK. I was beginning my third day of no coffee (gasp), my third day of no beer (double gasp), and, while I did feel a bit tired and run down, I figured that I should continue to just take it easy. I was staying semi-productive work wise, and was continuing to head to bed around 8.
Early early Friday morning, around 3am, I sort of woke up rather alertly, and thought to myself, "uh-oh, I am unwell."
I was rather frustrated, because, for a cold, I did not feel so congested, and had not yet gone through the runny nose misery that usually accompanies my bouts of Erkältung. However, I was really starting to feel lousy, and still a few hours before daylight.
I lay in bed for another 90 minutes trying to think myself well, then eventually fell back asleep. Somewhere around 9.30am or so, I sort of roused myself from bed, shuffled into the kitchen, started the PC, logged on, and immediately cancelled my 10am conference call.
Erm, I have the flu.
No trying to have green tea or anything on this day. I barely had cancelled the concall before I made my way to the living room recliner, where I tried to do a bit of comfort reading. This was rather unsuccessful due to the headache and weak, wobbly feeling I was enduring.
Fortunately, my suppliers understood my plight, and most of my UK colleagues were on holiday. Thus, it stood to be sort of a quiet day. Thank goodness.
I felt progressively worse over the course of the day, and it was all I could do to join a conference call with some North American colleagues at 4pm. I sort of grunted and forced myself through the call, then collapsed in exhaustion 45 minutes later as it concluded. From there, straight to be bed.
As I tumbled into bed, I felt bad for not calling my father to wish him a happy birthday. I had spoken with my sister the previous day ("happy birthday, and don't tell mom and dad that i am sick"), but had actually thought I would be feeling good enough to chat with pops on this special Friday. Alas, it was not going to happen.
From Friday afternoon until Saturday late late morning, I remained in bed, and for what it's worth, did get some reasonable sleep. There were a couple of potty breaks, and a couple of trips to the kitchen for a sip of juice or water, but then immediately back to bed. The headache was bothersome, the coughing fits annoying, and somehow my radiator wasn't working as well as it should have been. However, I was still warm enough under the duvet and blanket (wearing a tshirt and sweater and shorts for additional warmth).
By late Saturday morning, as I sort of lay their with my eyes open, I realized that I was feeling slightly better, but somewhat grateful that there was another day and a half before Monday. I might be able to get well by the first of the week. Ah, but first things first.
I decided to read a bit while still in bed, which actually turned into a read for 30 minutes, sleep for an hour, read for 30 minutes, sleep for an hour pattern which brought me to noon. I realized that the pharmacy would close early Saturday afternoon, and I very much needed to get some ibuprofen.
Managing to get myself into the kitchen for a bit of juice, I also noted that I needed to go back to the supermarket for more fluids, also.
After a long(ish) shower, I felt able to step down the street to the pharmacy, where I politely (interpret that as: spoke too softly and the lady could not understand me) asked for some ibuprofen. Eventually, the woman figured out which quantity I wanted. I asked for some of the vaporub from Vick's (the old stand by), and then headed to the market, where I quickly made my purchases, then headed once more for the safety of home.
It is never fun when you are feeling unwell, and there is something unpleasant about the burden of having to lug groceries home and up the steps. Actually, when I am ill, I do not want to be around anyone at all. I believe that goes for just about everyone, but it makes for sort of an awkward time.
So, relieved to be at home again Saturday afternoon, I decided to phone my parents quickly on skype, so as to get the belated birthday greeting out of the way, as well to inform them that i was under the weather.
We ended up talking for about an hour, and I was actually feeling about the best I have in the past 4 days, but things soon went downhill as I watched the streaming online version of the Arsenal match. I had decided to cook up a frozen pizza that looked pretty good in the box, but was not so fantastic out of the oven.
I then watched a bit of video, then headed for bed and a bit more reading. As luck would have it, a few coughing spells turned into a bit of an incident, and as I found myself bringing my dinner back up I thought to myself that I have had better weeks.
Back into bed, where I did drift off to sleep, and managed to sleep deeply until a reasonable hour Sunday morning. The deep sleep brought quite a few vivid dreams, fueled by the detective novels that I have been rereading, never mind the Inspector Morse video from the past days, as well as the wackiness of being ill. Sometime during the night, my bottom sheet actually ripped, having finally been washed perhaps one too many times. (that's what I am telling myself....but when I started awake upon hearing a "rrriiiiiiiiiiiiippppppppppp" I was also thinking of a few other things)
Whew.
So, Sunday afternoon, I realized that I was not going to be 100% fit again by Monday, but at least I could demonstrate I was making progress. I watched the final episodes of "As Time Goes By," which happens to be a favorite little series of mine, then actually felt like a bit of piano playing for the first time of the week. Though short lived, it was nice to tickle the ivory briefly, before flopping back down to discover some episodes of "All Creatures Great and Small," which I watched until bedtime.
Once in bed, I realized I wasn't far from the end of the "final" book from my favorite detective series, so pressed on and finished the book (for the 2nd, maybe 3rd time) around 11.30. While I felt good to not feel so exhausted (as I had the whole week), I knew I was not quite well, and it is in this middle ground where I always find myself a bit stuck.
I always get a bit uptight when I reach the end of something, whether it be a good book, good series, good experience, etc. Now, one could argue that reaching the end of one's illness is not necessarily a good time, but it is a good thing. I do not dispute that. However, flooded with all the emotional bits of the "ATGB" episodes, combined with the completion of DI Rebus's retirement, and suddenly the rediscovery of James Herriot tv episodes (always very influential), all on a quiet Sunday night was just a bit much for me.
So, I tossed and turned a bit, thinking about life, thinking about beginnings, endings, pets, advent calendars, and the fact that Christmas is coming.
Sleep came, but the alarm sounded all too early this morning. Truth be told, I believe I have a few days left before I am really fit again, but the worst is behind me.
Of course, I needed to skip out to the market for more juice and fluids, which I did at lunchtime, and upon return found a Christmas card in my letterbox, with a nice line, "thanks again for kicking my Christmas off right with the Vince G track."
I smiled at the memory of a couple of weeks ago when I plinked out a little song right after Thanksgiving, and am glad to have had such positive feedback, through skype, email, text, and as of today, through the post.
I guess that it's one of the reasons I will sign off this post with a quote, "the magic of the holidays never ends, and its greatest gifts are family and friends."
Thanks kids.
bryan
