I don’t get sick that often. But when I do, well, it gets interesting. I kept a diary of my recent bout with
death a head cold/sinus problem.
Friday, November 8
6:45 AM: Woke up with my sinus cavity feeling as if someone jammed five tampons into it: stuffy and very dry. Made coffee and sat in my favorite chair, watched TV and edited my manuscript.
8:00 AM: Still nursing my coffee, I decide to add a bowl of chocolate chips to my breakfast repertoire. I eat weird things when I get sick.
9:00 AM: Call to reschedule my yoga class. My sinuses still feel like someone stuffed five tampons into them and the last thing I feel like doing is exerting myself.
9:10 AM: Took a shower. When I saw goosebumps all over me in a steam-filled bathroom, I knew that this was serious. Decided to not shave my legs since my head felt swimmy.
10:00-12:00-Went on Pinterest and rewrote a bunch of captions to some pins of bad 1970′s fashion. Learned that I am even funnier when I’m feverish.
12:00-2:00 PM- Texted my husband that I was sick and he had to come up with something for supper. After that, the next two hours were a fever dream.
2:00 pm. Rudely awakened from my fever dream by the show Katie and that day’s topic: Avril Levigne and her husband, the singer from Nickelback whose voice always sounds like he gargled a mixture of thumbtacks and battery acid. Not up to watching douchey Canadian “rock” stars. Channel surfed. Found nothing. Threw in Season 5, Disc 1 of True Blood.
4:25 pm: Hubby calls and is uncertain about supper. He suggests Arby’s because I went there the other day and had the smokehouse brisket and it was very, very good. I said sure. My head was stuffed up.
5:00 pm: Hubby arrives home with the food. this Smokehouse Brisket with barbeque sauce, french friend onions, some white stuff I think was supposed to be cheese and bacon made me forget for about ten minutes what refried ass feels like.
6:30 pm: Even in my sickness, I cannot watch Entertainment Tonight. I turned it over to KDLT & Big Bang Theory.
6:45 pm: While in the middle of watching a You Tube video featuring Chris Warcraft teaching Regis Philben how to play video games, my husband enters the living room and looks at the television. The look of abject horror on his face is both oddly endearing and priceless. The object of his terror? Howard and Bernadette dressed as Smurfs for Halloween and there was a Tardis behind them.
7:00 pm: Watched Undercover Boss, but couldn’t focus because I felt so horrid again.
8:00 pm: Went to bed. Lay there for a long time between sleep and wakefulness, fever and chills and wishing for a quick death.
November 9, 3013
5:00 AM: Woke up on my own thinking that it was 7 am because the dusk to dawn lights outside our apartment building are so bright. Not used to end of daylight savings time yet. Vaguely remember going into the living room into my usual chair and crashing out.
7:00 AM: Woke up again, wondering how I got into this chair. Then I got up and made coffee.
Between 7-8AM: Husband wakes up. Comes into the living room to check on me. Ever the caring and doting husband, he feels bad for me, sighs and says, “My poor yucky honey.”
WTF? I vaguely remember being offended by this but I feel too crappy to make a stink over it.
8:00 AM: Sinuses hurt like a mofo. Now feels like someone jammed 10 tampons into my sinus cavity. I remember we have a vaporizer.
8:30 AM: Decide that I feel so much like refried ass and tomatoes, I’m gonna spend the day in bed. I gather up my laptop, iPod, my marked up manuscript, a notebook and my sick ass and go lie down.
9:00 AM: Hubby goes out. Seriously considering texting him to ask him to swing by Walgreens for a neti pot. It’s not that I relish the idea of willingly pouring water into my nasal cavity, but I cling to the thought that perhaps the warm, saltiness of the water will ease up the pressure I’m feeling.
9:10 AM: Found some yoga poses online that are supposed to relieve sinus pressure. However, most of them involved either standing or lying down ass over tea kettle, which is not something I feel like doing at the moment.
9:20 AM: I feel some dripping. Unfortunately, it’s in the back of my throat. I want to die.
9:30 AM: Take a selfie of me lying in bed and sick. Debate posting it on Twitter. Doze off before I can make a decision.
9:45 AM: Wake up, feel okay enough to get out of bed and I go make myself some mint tea. I also find some cold meds. Like Gollum and his “precious”, I take the cold meds into the bedroom, pop a few and patiently wait for sweet relief.
10:00 AM: Realize that while I was up, making tea and freezing my ass off, I forgot to get my Kindle. I go on Twitter to complain about it.
10:10 AM: Look at the clock and realize it’s only 10 after 10. Hit Pinterest again. Overcome with the strong urge to knit. Feeling too much like shit to get out of bed and go get that sweater I’ve been promising myself I would have finished by October 1.
10:15 AM: Now have both post-nasal drip AND dried-up, crusty boogers. My wish for a quick death only grows stronger.
10:20 AM: Entering the “I have to lie down because I feel like death warmed over” phase of the sickness.
10:21 AM: Record in my journal that I am not down with the sickness. I want this to be a matter of public record.
10:22 AM: Put in the earbuds and hit Songza, looking for the perfect playlist to accompany my illness. The closest I can find is “gloomy” songs and I don’t think it wise to listen to dubstep when my sinuses are so plugged up. Decide to listen to a self-created iPod playlist I named “Musical Uppers”. The song “I’m Your Captain/Closer to Home” came on and I felt an overwhelming sense of empathy for the protagonist as he lay down, wishing for the sweet release from the surly bonds of Earth so he could touch the Hands of God.
10:25 AM: Doze off with the iPod on. Coincidentally, I hear a lot of songs with the word “burning” in them. I’ve re-entered the fever dream portion of my sickness once again. I also have a dream about Josh Sitton’s Twitter avatar.
10:30 AM: Imagine that I’m hearing a mash-up of the yodeling part of John Denver’s Calypso and the theme song from Chapi Chapo, which is some weird French kids thing involving rejected Rankin-Bass characters that race around and giggle madly. My brother used to watch this, as it appealed to his age group at the time. I was twelve and all I could think of is “WTF?” and “When does this end?”
ETA: Did I mention this all took place in 1982? No? Well, it did. Except the imagining the mash-up part. That happened at 10:30 AM on Saturday, November 9, 2013. Also, this theme song would torment me in the form of a very stubborn earworm for over 30 years.
10:40 AM: I wake up. I think the cold medicine kicked in. If it is, then it must be spiked with LSD or peyote or ‘shrooms or something. I thought I hallucinated weird shit without the help of cold medicine. Now I’m imagining I’m seeing tweets from Boy George about farts.
10:45 AM: Get up to pee and I can’t help but notice that, despite feeling sick, I’m having a really damn good hair day. If only I felt as sexy as my sleep-tousled auburn locks of hair are.
10:46 AM: I have fully entered the Wide Awake, Freezing My Ass Off, Please, If There is a God in Heaven, Make This Sinus Pressure Stop phase of the sickness. I’m not down with this part, either.
11:20 AM: Start writing this blog post because I got the bright idea that recording my illness for posterity would be really freakin’ hilarious.
11:25 AM: Hubby comes home. Scares the shit out of me when I see the shadow on the wall because I was in deep concentration. Nose starts to run a bit. The meds are working. Maybe too well.
11:30-11:40 AM: Read aloud all that I have written so far to my hubby. He laughs. Then falls on the bed while continuing to laugh. I think he holds his stomach. I am pleased. I make note of my typos and to correct them. If they are still there, I, in my sickness, forgot to fix them. I’m sweating now like a swimmy-headed pig.
Noon: Hubby runs out to Jimmy John’s to grab some lunch because, as he says, “It’s calling to me.” I walk that thin tightrope between hunger and no appetite, so I have him get me my usual. It has turkey and guacamole on it. Before he leaves, he agrees that despite my sickness, my hair is really damn sexy today.
12:10 pm. Realize that since we decreed that our bedroom would be a haven of sleep and sex; therefore no TV, I can’t watch the usual afternoon block of How-To shows on SDPB. I also realize that I’m very warm and I kick off the blankets. Nose stops running. Pressure has eased off somewhat. Wishing for death just a little less.
12:20 pm: Heard Hubby come home. Need my guac, dammit. Need it now.
12:21 PM: Realize that this cold medication I took has given me the munchies.
12:25-12:45 PM. Enjoy the entire sandwich. I was hungrier than I thought. My nose is runny. For the first time since I caught this bug, I blow my nose. Joy.
1:15 pm: Getting very warm. Sinuses feel like they are filling back up again. Not sure how long these cold meds last for, but I vow to enjoy the respite from the utter misery of this head cold. At least I think it’s a head cold. I can’t take my temperature because our thermometer got lost when we moved and we haven’t gotten around to replacing it.
By the way, we moved two years ago.
1:20 PM: Hubby goes to take a poop. Thankful I am not the puking kind of sick because when he goes to drop the kids off at the pool, he takes the long way there and back, if you catch my drift.
1:35 PM: The Hubster is still in the bathroom. I thought I heard the sink running. Maybe the cold meds are wearing off. Not too sure, though. I just know that 15 minutes in the crapper is a sprint. I just hope that when he gets out, he closes the door because the bedroom is right across from the bathroom and despite my sinuses being filled with bags of hammers, I can still smell things and that smell is not the kind of decongestant I have in mind.
1:40 PM: Finally got up and retrieved my Kindle. Also learned that the running water noise was coming from the dishwasher. Heard the toilet flush. 20 minutes. It’s a two-flusher…so far.
1:41 PM: Hubby comes into the bedroom, his own Kindle in hand. He doesn’t shut the bathroom door. He says things to me, but the pressure in my head is only increasing. I must lie down now.
1:45 PM: I lie down and wonder when Hubby is going to go and do the laundry because the cold meds are wearing off & I’m craving the idea of wearing real pajamas instead of a hoodie/sweatpants/hospital issue slipper socks with the non-skid treads ensemble I’m currently rocking at the moment. The rank odor of poo wafts into the bedroom. I pray for my nose to plug up completely or death; whichever comes first.
2:25 PM: Realized I dozed off with my earbuds in. I dreamed of yoga and Beatles songs. When I woke up, I was disappointed to learn I’d only fell asleep for about 45 minutes. Popped some more cold pills as it’s been over 4 hours since I took the first ones. The poop smell is gone.
2:44 PM: It finally dawns on me that I have a very depressing song about a mutiny and a ship’s captain wishing for death on a playlist I named “Musical Uppers”. Feverish again and I don’t feel like fixing it right now. Sinus cavity level of plugged up went from zero to ten tampons while I dozed off. Now my throat hurts. I pray for death or a non-feverish lucid feeling: whichever comes first.
3:oo PM: The ratio of Badgers to BYU fans on my Twitter is 500 bajillion to one. I forgot there was a game today. Feeling too much like shit to get up and watch it. Am buoyed briefly by Gloria Gaynor’s song of encouragement, I Will Survive.
And I realize that yes…I will survive. I’ve broken bones and I’ve given birth. Without an epidural. After 16 hours of back labor (and I know that all those “man-up” trolls out there would be running off to their mommies all snot-faced and crying if they’d ever experienced 16 hours of back labor WITHOUT an epidural. Man-up is a misnomer. Woman up, bitches!) If I can survive that, then I have no business bitching about a piddly little head cold, even if the stuffed up feeling in my sinuses has eased off to about a level 5 tampons shoved up into my sinus cavity.
Update: I’m doing much better now. In fact, the stuffiness is gone.