What a Week!

It’s only been a week, but it seems like a month. This one was a rough one.

Last Sunday I decided that I needed to get out and ride my bike a little, just to keep in some form of shape. I dressed up warmly in long sleeved shirt, safety green vest and helmet, and started riding north on First St.

It didn’t seem all that cold until I turned to ride up the hill toward the  high school. 

Suddenly there was a bitter chill wind in my face, pushing me backwards and biting my face. By the time I got to the top of the hill my throat hurt from breathing the cold wind. I abandoned any idea of getting even to Armstrong and back. I turned around and rode quickly back to the house.

I had a small cough now, and didn’t feel very good, so I went in for a long hot shower. Then I put my clothes on and drove to CVS for some of their super cough drops. They really seem to sooth my throat better than the cheap brands. 

I stayed indoors the rest of the day, and I noticed that as the sun set, I felt weaker by the minute and my forehead was hot to the palm of my hand. I was getting dizzy and stumbling around, so I took another hot shower and bundled up in bed.

I washed some Ibuprofen down with Gatorade, and putting a cough drop in my mouth, I wrapped up in bed and prepared to sleep the night away. I noticed that I was unable to relax my body at all, and I just got tenser until I realized I was shaking. I’ve known chills and fever before, but never had it come on this fast, except for that time in the Army they gave me a flu shot.

 I reacted very badly to it, with soaring temperature and violent, bone rattling shakes. My sergeant called for an ambulance and they trundled me over to the base hospital on Ft. Ord in a hurry. They had just reopened the base training facility after losing eleven trainees to meningitis. They went to panic mode when they saw my symptoms.

All night the first night they force fed me aspirin, washed down with copious amounts of ice water from one of those iconic stainless pitchers, and I think I got an alcohol sponge bath, but I’m not sure. I was drifting in and out of consciousness.

They released me on the third day, still nursing a headache from the spinal tap, and I went back to training. I worked hard to keep up with the rest of the company, because I sure didn’t want to restart the training again. And I got a special shot record card with big red letters on the cover that said, “ALLERGIC TO FLU”. Never had to get one of those again.

But that’s enough digression. Sunday night my throat got rapidly sorer and my cough became almost continuous, making it difficult to catch my breath. Just before midnight my stomach began rocking and rolling, and I rapidly sat up in bed and grabbed the wastebasket, which had a new plastic liner in it. I uploaded most of the food I had eaten in the last couple of days. But there was no relief at all. I spent the next hour or so with dry heaves. I tried to sip a little Gatorade, but was not able to keep any of it down.

My chest hurt so bad I was afraid I had cracked ribs. I kept hoping for relief but relief didn’t come. At a couple of points there I would have welcomed death’s angel if he would make it stop. 

Around three in the morning, I found some TUMS and chewed them up, which seemed to settle my stomach just enough to allow me to take a couple more Ibuprofen and a small amount of Gatorade. I coughed spasmodically the rest of the morning, and I just stayed in bed. I got up to pee once and noticed that the grapes and bananas on the table were all gone, and figured I must have kept my nephew Joe awake all night coughing, so he just spent the night eating everything he could find, I think.

I spent Monday in bed, and I thought I was on the mend, which suited me, because I was supposed to take Darlene, my daughter, to her class for CNA certification. I managed to get dressed for the trip, but then she called and said the class that night was cancelled due to sickness. Guess whatever this is, it’s getting around.

I got undressed and flopped back to bed, hoping for a better night’s sleep. I was not hungry, and hadn’t eaten anything, just little sips of Gatorade about every six hours to wash down a couple of Ibuprofen. I couldn’t remember if Ibuprofen lowers a fever or not, but I soon found out by holding off until the fever came back, then taking the Ibuprofen as needed. It worked well, both at relieving fever and making my aches go away.

Tuesday was a repeat of Monday. I just stayed in bed and slept all day. I still had no appetite, the very thought of food made me cringe, but I got up to take Darlene to her class again. I dropped her off about 5:15 and went back home until time to pick her up about 9:00. I was afraid I would fall asleep and miss her pickup time, so I got in the car and drove out early, parked in the parking lot, put the seat back and dozed an hour early. It worked out nicely, because the teacher let the class out early and I was right there to take Darlene back to her apartment. 

Wednesday was a no class day, so I got to sleep almost the whole day through. Darlene called and offered to make some potato soup for me if I wanted it. I still abhorred the thought of food, so I told her not yet. 

This bug seems to have photocell sensors. I get almost feeling well during the day, but when the sun goes down, so do I. 

Thursday Darlene had class again, but once again the class was cancelled due to sickness. This is some mean bug.

Thursday midnight a glimmer of hope appeared. I woke up wanting something to eat! I searched the kitchen and found some Schwans mashed potato buds, so I nuked them with a little milk and butter, and gingerly ate little bites. I didn’t eat much, but it was the first food in three long days and nights. 

Somewhere about three in the morning, I found myself humming an old song that Carolyn and I used to sing when we were asked how we felt. Right after we were married we bought an album by a group called The Fugs. The music was terrible but the lyrics were hilarious, and the line that we remembered for years after came from the song title, “My Baby Done Left Me.” The last line of each verse was, “I feel like homemade shit!.” That kind of became our rallying cry when we were sick. If you could sing that line, you must be getting better. It’s on YouTube, but you will have to look for it yourself.

Friday morning Darlene called and offered to buy me breakfast if we could go to the ALDI grocery store down in Texas. The prices are heavily discounted, because they have maybe three employees in the whole place, I think. You have to rent a shopping cart for a quarter, but you get the quarter back if you bring the shopping cart back. They also don’t sack the groceries, so you need to bring your own bags and pack them yourself. It’s an interesting concept, but cheap.

We stopped at our favorite restaurant for breakfast, which tasted good, and as we were eating, a song came over the sound system. It was ,”The Tennessee Waltz” by Patti Page. Suddenly tears ran down my face, and I struggled not to break out into sobs. Darlene saw and knew why. It was a favorite of Carolyn’s, as her Daddy Dan Wright used to sing it to her as she sat on his knee. I just wasn’t ready for it yet.

The rest of the day went well. Next to the ALDI store is Harbor Freight Tools, and I found some machinists measuring tools I have been needing since I left all mine in Nevada, I think. I can now start working on airbag adapters for my GMC RV. Have designed a system using truck overload airbags between adapters. I think it will be a big improvement.

I got nowhere to go but up. I think I’ll listen to “I feel like homemade shit.” again. I’m ready to laugh.