I felt like I had been hit by a truck, drug 6 miles over rocky terrain, and then stampeded by a heard of wild bison. My body ached so bad that all I wanted to do was curl up in my comfy bed and never leave.
That was Tuesday.
What had started on Monday as a slight burning sensation in my throat and a severe case of nausea, had escalated into chills and muscle aches that took over my body to the point that my brain couldn’t even function. And if that wasn’t good enough, my chest felt like it had an elephant sitting on it and I was coughing up gross yellow gunk. I slowly came to the realization that I was sick.
But I don’t get sick! I have the immune system of a rock! Sure, my grandkids visited this past weekend and Kayla was coughing, but that’s never has an effect on me in the past. And then I had a thought: I had gone through 2 cycles of antibiotics over the last month for infections and my body hadn’t had time to catch up on it’s own super germ fighting skills yet.
So after much prodding from people that have to deal with me on a day-to-day basis, I hauled my butt to the Doctor. The verdict: I had the flu. And if that wasn’t enough, the Doctor added Bronchitis as the cherry on top.
Yippee! Notsomuch. You know, I think I could probably handle this a little better if it wasn’t for the nausea. Even the smell of food makes me want to toss my cookies (if I had some to toss).
So for the next couple of days I’m confined to the homestead, dining on the select choices of the BRAT diet and trying to survive the boredom of weekday TV. Applesauce and the bitch squad of The View aren’t exactly my idea of quality entertainment.