The Flu

Not dead, but I came close. Last Tuesday brought on a violent attack of the flu. I can't remember the last time I was that sick. It began with projectile vomiting, then came a high fever and chills and we rounded things out with one of the flu's best buddies, diarrhea. What a lovely time.

Unlike past illnesses where I felt like heck but was never actually afraid of the darn thing, this one was different. It was virulent, vile and very violent. (Ah, alliteration! Such fun). High fevers tend to addle my mind to a frightening degree and this high fever was a terror. At one point, I woke up and found myself lying on my side in the bathtub, the water having grown cold while I slept. I did not remember getting in the tub, nor how I fell asleep in it. I count myself lucky that my tub drain leaks a bit, therefore taking the water level down just enough to keep me from drowning. Even in my my fever-addled state I realized how close I'd come.

I managed to keep myself awake long enough after that to determine I was in a safe place before nodding off again. There was a lot of sleeping (constantly interrupted by dashes to the bathroom). I called a friend and asked her to check up on me, which she did. All day long she called to make sure I was still okay. (She lives in another state so calling was her only option).

After days of battling the symptoms, it finally abated. I was left feeling weak, wrung out, but alive and on the mend. I've almost regained my strength now. I'm eating again and have been taking it easy, hoping to hasten my full recovery. I don't know what strain of the flu I had, but do whatever you can to avoid it. Get a flu shot or go live on a deserted island or something, but avoid this bad boy with everything you have. It's truly the worst case of flu I've ever experienced.