Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Reporting In From Sick Bay
That's a picture of a rhinovirus from the CIRI website. It looks like cheetos sprinkled with bits of dried chive, doesn't it? Which is amusing because that's exactly how my brain feels: like cheetos sprinkled with chives. I blame Wally because in October, I was in four airplanes (two of them cross country), trudged four days in cold rain; when I wasn't in the rain I was in crowded subway trains; not to mention October was a big month for H1N1 at work. I came home from my travels, healthy as a horse. Not even a sniffle. Six weeks later, Wally comes home and I get sick. My guess is the pod or barracks or whatever they call where he was living makes the toddler room at a day care center on any given day in January look like an OR suite just before a heart/lung transplant.
It's pitiful how this little virus has reduced me to a whining pile of mucusy goo. It's not like I have cancer or a ruptured appendix or Swine Flu or a brain tumor or even a psychotic episode--just a really bad cold. It's the sort of cold that makes you think God has you on the naughty list, right next to the Israelites when they were condemned to wandering the desert. But instead of wandering in a desert you are glued to your bed surrounded by snotty tissues, old soup bowls, cough drop wrappers and empty tea cups. Monday evening when my cold had reached it's nadir, wandering around a desert with a few scraps of dry bread sounded a lot better than suffocating on my own body fluids. Because I was quarantined in my bedroom the only audience I had for my whining were my invisible/imaginary friends. I was going on and on about my cold and woe is me and whine...whine...whine to the fifth power when one of my friends linked me to this hilarious video. I'm not smart enough to embed it so follow the link to youtube. I was almost this pitiful and if we had national health care I probably would have called 911.
I'll be back next week and maybe my brain won't feel like cheetos and dried chives.