Most of you didn’t know. And don’t feel bad if you’re one. It’s not like I specifically wasn’t telling anyone, I just well, fell off the face of the Earth.
After an attempt to go in to work on the Tuesday after Memorial Day, I turned around, went home, and stayed home sick for the day. I was back at work for the rest of the week, though I was a bit stuffy, I was feeling okay.
Then the weekend rolled around again and I was ready to hit my plans at full speed. A friend had a Southern Living party on Friday, Saturday morning we got up early to volunteer at Northwest Harvest followed by a DeMolay convention wrap up bbq and meeting. Around 4:00 on Saturday I pulled hubby out of the meeting early to take me home. I was not feeling well.
I called my co-worker to let her know I wouldn’t make it to her baby shower on Sunday and when we got home, I hit the couch.
And was down for the count.
I stayed home sick from work on Monday and Tuesday and after fevers upwards of 102, I’ve finally returned from the other side – back from the dead.
I was so sick that I couldn’t watch tv, though for Saturday and Sunday it was great for triggering a lenghty nap. The shining star in my little story is my husband. My knight in shining armor. Or I should say my super shopper with juice, applesauce, grapes, sherbert, pudding, toast and who knows what else he got (eggos and breakfast patties). He kept me fed, made me shower and rotate the tissue pot and pillow cases out until I gradually got better. He even called the nurses hotline for me on Sunday (I think it was Sunday) when I was in the bathroom turning my stomach inside out. He bought a brand new neti pot and humidifier and after three days of sleep I’m returning to human.
I’m still coughing like I’m about to die and my diet hasn’t returned to normal but I’m back at work and counting the hours each day until I can plop myself onto a city bus and sleep my way home.
Current count is 4.