Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Health, is that you?

For the past week, I've felt like dying.  Today, I feel like I could:

It's never fun when you get something bronchitis (I'm certain that's what I had); it's even less fun when it happens during one of your final weeks of summer.  I haven't seen my friends since last Sunday, and knowing that my summer vacation was slowly trickling down the drain as I was confined to the couch under a blanket in front of the TV was disheartening.  Prepare yourself for the grimy details.

It all started on Monday, my first day back from my camping trip.  My parents and I have decided that my sickness was probably due to my lowered immune system from camping, and I would agree with them: I'm not an outdoorsy person, and therefore, it would make sense that my immune system was at its lowest defenses when coming off a weekend where I was beyond my comfort zone, was cold, slept poorly, and ate like crap.  On Monday, however, I felt something creeping up; I hate that feeling, but when it comes, I immediately start downing cold and flu medication and drinking orange juice.  (it's a superstition of mine.  I think I drank 8L of Sunny Delight last week)  That feeling in my throat started to pain me, and there was a build up of phlegm at the back of my throat which made me feel icky.  I assured myself "it's only phlegm" and I began my overdramatic spitting as much as I could to get rid of that shit.  I forced myself out to see my friends' soccer game, but even there I began to feel strange waves of nausea and I knew things weren't looking the best.  That night, I shivered under my covers while sweating.

I woke up Tuesday with barely any energy.  My whole family was home, and the cleaning ladies were due to come; I tried staying awake until I gave up and went back to my room and kept my door shut and slept.  I slept until 5pm.  I woke up exhausted with my throat raging.  I kept myself awake to watch my regular shows on Tuesdays but went to bed once more with a bleak future - I was to work in the morning at noon.

I called in sick on Wednesday without hesitation.  I had another night of chills with a fever (I took my temperature and it was about 102F - damn) and woke up now congested and still exhausted.  I spent the entire day on the couch, in and out of consciousness.  I finished the fifth season of Grey's Anatomy and I suppose my emotions were running high but I wept like a bitch throughout the last four episodes of the season.  (Izzie and Karev's wedding was beautiful.  I bawled.  George died.  I bawled.  Izzie kept kinda dying and I bawled every time)

On Thursday I felt like absolute shit.  I did much of the same all day, watching Planet Terror and Death Proof and Mulan and V for Vendetta.  It became hurtful to even speak; by that time, my ears began to hurt in signs of an ear infection, and my threatening nausea never let up.

Come Friday I drove myself to the walk-in clinic, hardly able to properly speak.  (I sounded like a stereotypical sick person, unable to pronounce my Ds and other difficult consonants) The doctor told me it was nothing serious.  Fuck off.  I got what I wanted, though, my antibiotics.

My health never improved over the weekend, but symptoms slowly began to drop off one by one.  Thankfully, my fever broke, and I was finally awarded the chance to have a night full of uninterrupted sleep.  The nausea went away, as did the symptoms of my ear infections and sore throat - I could finally once again swallow food and drink without absolute pain and disgust.  It all came down to my completely blocked nose - I literally couldn't even breathe at all through my nose.  Then, eventually, and I can't remember when it happened between now and Sunday, but I was able to sniffle once, and this massive feeling of something dislodged behind my nose and miraculously I could breathe again.

I'm mostly back to where I should be now.  I can breathe and talk and eat properly, although sometimes my throat feels raw which is to be expected considering I was only able to breathe through my mouth for a good two or three days.  I look back at the previous week and am somehow astounded that I didn't end up killing myself to give up; it was devastating to keep waking up every single day with no improvement of health despite resting for more than twelve hours a day and pumping myself full of juice (I can never drink water with a sore throat because it tastes like sore throat but eventually I could drink warm water) and soup.  I'm absolutely relieved that I can resume what I called my life and at least enjoy what I have left of the summer, but this summer has been disastrous thus far, what with this and my broken knee back in May.  Who the hell breaks their knee?

Well, anyways.  I'm back to health, mostly, and I feel like hopping on some coffins.

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