What a difference a day makes...
This is an old post I never got around to actually posting. It's from late March/early April. Nothing earth shattering; just my life.
It was a wonderful spring break. We visited with John's sister Carolyn and her husband Dave. We spent time with good friends, and the last four days we spent with John and Sheena and the girls. It was bliss. We had originally planned to go to Ithaca first and see Dave and Carolyn afterwards, but Sheena was sick last weekend, so we delayed our visit until she was better. Part of our reasoning was to avoid the flu. We've been lucky this year have not had to deal with the flu, even though neither of us got a flu shot this year.
While in Ithaca, I was telling Sheena about how we've dodged the flu bullet this year. We've been careful about things like handwashing, we've used essential oils regularly, and we've tried to stay well-rested and well-hydrated. It seems like it's been working. When I do get sick, it's nearly always upper-respiratory stuff; I never seem to get the stomach bugs that go around, which is good. I don't handle nausea well. At all.
Sunday afternoon we drove home so that we could get a good night's sleep before starting the work week back up on Monday. This week is crazy busy, especially because I procrastinated a lot of work for my graduate class over the break and am so far behind... (and now writing a blog post ....). We made it home in a record six hours, and after unpacking, we were in bed by 11. Not bad.
Then around 2 o'clock, I woke up, nauseous and miserable. I slept fitfully, mostly terrified that I would have to get up and be sick. I'm more afraid of throwing up than almost anything else. I wondered what I had eaten. I wondered if I had caught the flu after all. I stayed in bed an extra couple of hours to see if I could sleep it off, but it made no difference. I finally dragged myself out of bed and got ready for work. John had made himself a delicious breakfast, but I had to leave the kitchen because the smell was making everything worse for me.
Since it was Monday, there was a senate meeting that afternoon that I had to take minutes for. There's no one to back me up in this job, so I have to be there, period. After some quality time in the bathroom, I felt like I might be able to manage. I even screwed up my courage and asked the guy in the booth at the parking lot next to my building (for visitors/guests only) if he would let me pay to park there. He must have seen how green I was, because he gave me a pass. It was wonderful to not have to walk across campus at 11 a.m. when the temperature was 20 degrees with a stiff wind.
I kept my mind on the work at hand while in the office. I didn't dare eat or drink anything except for a bottle of Ithaca Ginger Beer which we had fortuitously brought home with us, and I carried to work in my purse. Not that I was hungry, but it was the only thing that didn't sound awful. As the day wore on, my shoulders started aching, and then my back, my arms, my legs. I was doomed. Miraculously, I got through the day, and the two hour senate meeting. All I could think about was getting home and crawling into bed.
As I drove home, I just kept reminding myself of my warm bed. John had a bowl of chicken noodle soup waiting for me. I was actually hungry, and it was the perfect thing to eat. I climbed the stairs, put on my fleece pajamas and slid between the flannel sheets, underneath a blanket and two heavy quilts. I lay in bed and talked to Marie on the phone, grateful to be home. The only trouble was that I couldn't get warm.
The aching intensified. I hurt everywhere, but I was confused. My throat didn't hurt. My sinuses weren't throbbing. I didn't have a cough. This didn't sound like Sheena's flu. I just ached. And I could feel my temperature rising, even while I was shivering under the covers. I had visions of having to cancel all my engagements this week -- not playing for the Farmington PTA dance on Friday, not speaking at the stake young women's conference on Saturday, missing my class on Wednesday night. Who has time for seven days of misery? 'Cause that's where I was sure I was headed.
I got out of bed and sat in John's zero-gravity chair, curled up under my furry nap-blanket while he graded papers because I didn't want to feel anti-social. I dozed for an hour or so and then headed back to bed. I watched the latest episode of Once upon a Time on my laptop to distract myself. I took my temperature and it was nearly 101 - not so high, but for someone whose normal temperature is about 97.4, it was high enough. My face was flushed and my eyes were red. I finally took some ibuprofen, applied some essential oils, turned out the light and tried to sleep.
This morning, I woke up and lay there, evaluating my health. No aches. No nausea. No fever. Really? I couldn't believe it. I got up and gingerly puttered around for a bit to see if the dizziness returned. Nope. I was fine.
I ate the rest of the chicken noodle soup for breakfast. No problem. I went to work. Felt great. The sun was shining and it was almost warm, making the walk across campus a pleasant break. I came home and ate a real lunch. It felt great to feel full. The guys came over and we made music in the basement for an hour and a half. I kept wondering how I had energy to do all this. I kept thinking, "Yesterday at this time I was so sick/miserable/dizzy/zoned-out!" All the things I had anticipated cancelling suddenly felt very do-able again.
I even went over to the church to the Relief Society activity. The food was wonderful and Sue Kane did a great workshop on the physical, emotional, and spiritual benefits of female friendships in our lives. I even got to visit awhile with Sue's daughter Katie, who was home for a visit. I am always amazed and thrilled to witness the women who emerge from the girls who grew up with my girls.
Twenty-four hours. Just a day. From well to wretched and back again. In the middle of the misery, it's important to remember that's not a permanent state. And when things are going great and I'm healthy and enjoying my life, it's important to remember to be grateful for all that good stuff, like not feeling like a train wreck. There's the moral of the story for you.
That, and remembering to schedule my flu shot this fall. I won't be that lucky twice.
It was a wonderful spring break. We visited with John's sister Carolyn and her husband Dave. We spent time with good friends, and the last four days we spent with John and Sheena and the girls. It was bliss. We had originally planned to go to Ithaca first and see Dave and Carolyn afterwards, but Sheena was sick last weekend, so we delayed our visit until she was better. Part of our reasoning was to avoid the flu. We've been lucky this year have not had to deal with the flu, even though neither of us got a flu shot this year.
While in Ithaca, I was telling Sheena about how we've dodged the flu bullet this year. We've been careful about things like handwashing, we've used essential oils regularly, and we've tried to stay well-rested and well-hydrated. It seems like it's been working. When I do get sick, it's nearly always upper-respiratory stuff; I never seem to get the stomach bugs that go around, which is good. I don't handle nausea well. At all.
Sunday afternoon we drove home so that we could get a good night's sleep before starting the work week back up on Monday. This week is crazy busy, especially because I procrastinated a lot of work for my graduate class over the break and am so far behind... (and now writing a blog post ....). We made it home in a record six hours, and after unpacking, we were in bed by 11. Not bad.
Then around 2 o'clock, I woke up, nauseous and miserable. I slept fitfully, mostly terrified that I would have to get up and be sick. I'm more afraid of throwing up than almost anything else. I wondered what I had eaten. I wondered if I had caught the flu after all. I stayed in bed an extra couple of hours to see if I could sleep it off, but it made no difference. I finally dragged myself out of bed and got ready for work. John had made himself a delicious breakfast, but I had to leave the kitchen because the smell was making everything worse for me.
Since it was Monday, there was a senate meeting that afternoon that I had to take minutes for. There's no one to back me up in this job, so I have to be there, period. After some quality time in the bathroom, I felt like I might be able to manage. I even screwed up my courage and asked the guy in the booth at the parking lot next to my building (for visitors/guests only) if he would let me pay to park there. He must have seen how green I was, because he gave me a pass. It was wonderful to not have to walk across campus at 11 a.m. when the temperature was 20 degrees with a stiff wind.
I kept my mind on the work at hand while in the office. I didn't dare eat or drink anything except for a bottle of Ithaca Ginger Beer which we had fortuitously brought home with us, and I carried to work in my purse. Not that I was hungry, but it was the only thing that didn't sound awful. As the day wore on, my shoulders started aching, and then my back, my arms, my legs. I was doomed. Miraculously, I got through the day, and the two hour senate meeting. All I could think about was getting home and crawling into bed.
As I drove home, I just kept reminding myself of my warm bed. John had a bowl of chicken noodle soup waiting for me. I was actually hungry, and it was the perfect thing to eat. I climbed the stairs, put on my fleece pajamas and slid between the flannel sheets, underneath a blanket and two heavy quilts. I lay in bed and talked to Marie on the phone, grateful to be home. The only trouble was that I couldn't get warm.
The aching intensified. I hurt everywhere, but I was confused. My throat didn't hurt. My sinuses weren't throbbing. I didn't have a cough. This didn't sound like Sheena's flu. I just ached. And I could feel my temperature rising, even while I was shivering under the covers. I had visions of having to cancel all my engagements this week -- not playing for the Farmington PTA dance on Friday, not speaking at the stake young women's conference on Saturday, missing my class on Wednesday night. Who has time for seven days of misery? 'Cause that's where I was sure I was headed.
I got out of bed and sat in John's zero-gravity chair, curled up under my furry nap-blanket while he graded papers because I didn't want to feel anti-social. I dozed for an hour or so and then headed back to bed. I watched the latest episode of Once upon a Time on my laptop to distract myself. I took my temperature and it was nearly 101 - not so high, but for someone whose normal temperature is about 97.4, it was high enough. My face was flushed and my eyes were red. I finally took some ibuprofen, applied some essential oils, turned out the light and tried to sleep.
This morning, I woke up and lay there, evaluating my health. No aches. No nausea. No fever. Really? I couldn't believe it. I got up and gingerly puttered around for a bit to see if the dizziness returned. Nope. I was fine.
I ate the rest of the chicken noodle soup for breakfast. No problem. I went to work. Felt great. The sun was shining and it was almost warm, making the walk across campus a pleasant break. I came home and ate a real lunch. It felt great to feel full. The guys came over and we made music in the basement for an hour and a half. I kept wondering how I had energy to do all this. I kept thinking, "Yesterday at this time I was so sick/miserable/dizzy/zoned-out!" All the things I had anticipated cancelling suddenly felt very do-able again.
I even went over to the church to the Relief Society activity. The food was wonderful and Sue Kane did a great workshop on the physical, emotional, and spiritual benefits of female friendships in our lives. I even got to visit awhile with Sue's daughter Katie, who was home for a visit. I am always amazed and thrilled to witness the women who emerge from the girls who grew up with my girls.
Twenty-four hours. Just a day. From well to wretched and back again. In the middle of the misery, it's important to remember that's not a permanent state. And when things are going great and I'm healthy and enjoying my life, it's important to remember to be grateful for all that good stuff, like not feeling like a train wreck. There's the moral of the story for you.
That, and remembering to schedule my flu shot this fall. I won't be that lucky twice.
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