I don’t get sick very often, and when I do, it’s usually a sort of walking sick, or semi-sick, which allows me to continue functioning at a reduced level without laying me flat.
But yesterday, I got up to go in for an 8 a.m. meeting and realized I just couldn’t do it. I was weak and shaky and feverish. I went back to bed and slept all day long. I tried to rally in the evening, washed the sheets, took a shower, watched The Darjeeling Limited, which happened to be on. But it was no dice. I went back to bed and slept solidly through the night. Today I went in to work for three hours (only because I had an appointment I hadn’t been able to cancel) and slept all afternoon.
I’m starting to feel better, but my throat is still insanely swollen and sore. And my lips are frayed with post-fever dryness. I predict that I’ll be marginally better tomorrow and lots better Friday. On the whole, an unexpected way to pass the week.
The funny thing is that it really came on in force Monday night, after I wrote the final pages of the Andy Project. So maybe it’s been laying dormant for a while, generously waiting for me to expend the last of my energy on my novel. How thoughtful of it.