Rewind.
Wednesday morning, the alarm sounds at 4:00. I pry my crusty eyes open, reach for the clock. My body hurts. Back to sleep. Harley barks. I slip out of bed. Steady myself. Take Harley out to potty. Crash on the couch. Harley jumps on the couch and sticks his face in mine--and I don't care. Sam comes out in his robe.
Day 1: The Flu.
"I think I'm dying," says I.
Sam grunts. He must think he's dying too.
We sleep more.
Sam reminded me of a post on google+ that had a kick-the-flu-quick recipe.
Recipe: 6 squeezed lemons, 2 tbsp honey, 3 cups pineapple juice, 1 bulb garlic, 1/4 tsp cayenne pepper, 2 tsp ginger powder (blended together). A cup every few hours and you'll have the flu licked!
I made a quick run to Food Lion for the ingredients I lacked, then made the wonder-juice. I took two gulps and I was hurling over the pot. Sam managed to kick back a whole glass with no side effects--except aftertaste. He never braved another cup.
Day 2: Sore throat and fever.
Just when I didn't think the flu could get any worse, Thursday morning I woke up to the addition of a sore throat.
The "fever check" has always been a hand to the head. So when I was reminded that I actually have a thermometer, I got a little excited about being able to check my temperature. It was 103.
It was a sad, miserable day. I called our minister for anointing. He said I didn't sound like myself--I'm sure he meant to say I sounded like Sam.
I called our 68 year old neighbor lady who suddenly disappeared two months ago, but this time, she actually picked up the phone.
"I finally had surgery," she said. Hip surgery.
"Well Pam," says I, "you can only imagine what we thought when we saw them carrying your mattress out the door!"
"Yes, I can't do without my mattress," says she.
Day 3: Immobility.
Still sick, weak and miserable, whether I was really able to walk or not, I played the more pitiful role and crawled my way to the pantry to get Harley his food. I sat on the floor exhausted. Once his bowls were refilled, I crawled back to the living room and sunk myself into the couch. Harley thought it was a game and as always, assumed his character: playful friend.
Day 4: Scotch.
By this point, sabbath had arrived and we were zombies.
Someone mentioned "scotch" to me a couple different times--all in jest. But perhaps because of my delirious state, I suddenly thought taking a swig might help. So I did. Wrong. Once again, I assumed my position at the toilet bowl.
Day 5: Chicken noodle soup and Daffodils.
The day is Sunday and Sam gets a call from his boss saying that they're bringing over some home-made chicken noodle soup for us. They live an hour away. What special people!
(Sam finds two more of Harley's teeth).
The soup arrived along side a vase of daffodils--now sitting atop our tuneless piano.
The soup was delicious! Harley ate the portions that fell down my chin and onto to my lap. He loved it too.
After five days, I lost 13 pounds.
Day 6, here we are, Monday, and I'm feeling "better." Not 100%. Everything is still settled in my chest where it reaches up to tug on my tonsils and swing on my bobber-wobble, making me cough every 5 minutes.
What does it mean when you reach to position your glasses better on your nose, and as your finger meets skin you realize you're not wearing your glasses? Just happened.
We can only go up from here!
Hi, Sarah! I'm glad you're better. A little late, but as for the Scotch thing, my recommendation that has worked for a few different people is a hot toddy. It doesn't make you better, but it relieves the symptoms for a little while. How we make it here in the Brown house is: 1 shot of Scotch, 2 shots of WARM water, lemon juice and honey to taste. It eases the sore throat, warms the body, and soothes the mind...for a little while. We ALWAYS have this when we have the flu or are just feeling plain under the weather.
ReplyDeleteLol! Thanks for sharing that! I think I shall have to try it tonight--we're still not feeling 100% yet...perhaps this will give us that extra boost we need. :)
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