I have been sick. Very sick. I have been layed up for about a week. I am tired, week and not at all pretty so look at.
This isn't the cutesy, red-nosed, mussed-up hair, whiney sick you see on tv. I really though I was dying. It was messy and gross, and not at all pleasant.
My kids have been sick on and off all weekend, and somehow that translates to me being virtually bedridden for an entire week. I had to call off work Monday, thinking, "ok, one day won't hurt, I don't go in until Wednesday, I'll have time to recover and get back at it."
HA! I did lay up Monday, I even had to have Ryan leave work at a half day so that he could care for either me or the children (at that point, I didn't care which, I just wanted to die). Needless to say, he came home and I slept. And slept, and slept.....dead to the world.
Tuesday-- I felt a bit better. I still had a pounding headache, but the hubs brought me soup so I figured I'd have a crack at it. I ate some soup, it stayed where I put it....major improvement. I was all but ready to get back at it the next day. Go back to work, earn some money, buy some concert tickets...you know, awesome, good things.
Wednesday--Yeah, I went back to work. BAD IDEA. I felt nauseated almost from the minute I got up. I was pale, shaking, sweaty...terrible. I trudged through and finished the day and then suffered in my chair until it was time for the boys to go to bed. Then I lay in my own bed, slowly wasting away in a puddle or sicky sweat, again wishing I were dead.
Thursday--I wasn't dead. I suppose thats a good thing, but really, I could have gone with dead. I would have been ok with that. To bad, I was still in the land of the living. I was not quite as sweaty, pale, and weak, but I was dehydrated and it felt like there was a battle raging in my stomach. Out of curiousity, I dragged myself out of bed and checked my weight (I'm trying to learn how my body reacts to things). I was down 6 lbs. SIX POUNDS!!?? That is six pound of sheer dehydration. No food, no water, no movement. That was everything I had stored up to make my muscles work. No wonder I feel so terrible. I resolved to eat something and drink as much water as possible.
1 liter of water and one meager grape later, I'm back in bed, wishing for death. I did manage to change the sheets and shower though, so that was a plus.
Friday-- I'm still alive. Truth be told, I feel much better. My headache is gone, I've already had 1 liter of gatorade and am working on a second. I have gained back 4 pounds of water weight which is good. I inhales one of those Cambell Chunky soup things, so my appetite is back. I still have the gurgles but I think I might live. Then I find out its going to be 54 degrees tomorrow. 54, really? It's 83 right now---Yeah, thats a 30 degree drop. Then it's supposed to shoot back up to almost 90 by weeks end. I have a feeling I am not finished with my journey through this valley of death. I've got my fingers crossed though.
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