I’ve been hearing these words a lot over the last nine days.

The Flu.

I can’t remember the last time I’ve had this version. The all-over-achy, coughing, fever, chest congested flu. Probably ten years.

I’m on day nine.

At least the fever part is over. I think. I stopped taking my temperature a few days ago when I hit my first almost 24 hours without feeling chills. Then I got them again for the next couple nights, but not during the days.

The days are reserved for resting.

Which is much better than the way I spent the first five or six days.


I don’t know about you, but the combination of fever and constant pain make me want to run for the hills. To have either on their own is much more manageable, but the two combined leave me totally conquered.

Look in on just about any of the last nine days and at least part of it you would find me napping on the couch, napping in my bed, napping in my husband’s recliner.

Can anyone detect a theme here?

Oh, oh, I forgot the best part! I can’t take anything for fever! I’m allergic to everything. And it wasn’t until day six that I remembered I have a new natural pain medication that actually works, so I did get a couple days of relieved pain.

So if you were looking for a post last week, I would normally have written it on Wednesday night, which was day two. My fevers were in the 102 degree range the first few nights, so had I sat down to write, you may have gotten quite the psychedelic story from me. Similar to when I had a reaction to a drug years ago and told my children stories of some of my darker days in college that I’d never shared with them before.

I did actually think of posting some pictures, but just the thought of trying to figure out once again where google photos hides my stash from me made me have to roll over and take a nap.

Earlier today, while being made fun of, I threatened to write about how moms can’t get sick because no one thinks to take care of them, and so they just waste away.

Yes, that was around naptime as well.

I’m not sure if it’s like this for every mom, or maybe my combination of control issues and emergency management skills mean that I don’t usually let others take care of me because I know better what I need, and I might as well just do it for myself instead of waiting for someone else to offer.

Except that when I’m sick, I lose the ability to communicate well.

I have long known this about myself. First I have a very high pain tolerance.

In my job as a standardized patient at our local medical college, students often ask where my “pain” is on the pain scale. (I’m only acting like I have pain.) They explain that 0 is no pain, then they usually say 10 is the worst pain you can imagine (or sometimes that you’ve ever had.)

In my real life I’ll give you an example of MY pain scale ratings. Every time I have been in labor I have reached a point where I could no longer speak or put thoughts together in the hardest part of a contraction.

That is my 5. I’m holding out for the 10. I’m tough. I can take it.

I think it goes back to being a stubborn girl with a shady dentist who “let” me have only nitrous oxide for fillings because I didn’t “want” a shot.

I have lots of those fillings.

Sorry. Getting a little psychedelic here.

Back to my point. First the high pain tolerance. Second, fever makes me fuzzy-headed. I can’t think in sentences, much less speak them. Third, I can’t follow through on my thoughts.

This is a big deal for me. And what brings on the new names as I try to make coherent ideas drift through the air.



Well that covers the menu for days one through four.

And most of the time I couldn’t say it loud enough for anyone to hear, so I got it myself.

Maybe I should write an instruction guide: “How to treat mom when she’s sick”, and post it on the fridge.

Did I mention I’ve lost 12 pounds in the last couple of weeks?

I’m really not high maintenance. I just simply can’t put my thoughts together to know what I want or need when I’m sick. It took me a whole day to get the word “popsicle” out. But had someone gotten down in my face, in that area where I could focus on their big lips talking to me, and start listing off suitable food groups, I bet I could have nodded gratefully and gotten one three whole days sooner than I did!

Yes, I’m saying it. I can’t talk good when I’m sick. Please talk for me! Because even though I don’t feel like eating, I need to at least have fluids going in. And though nothing sounds good in my head, that’s because I can’t picture myself opening the soup can, pouring it into a pan, turning on the burner… Nope. Too many steps. Not worth it.

Luckily for them I had bought a few day’s worth of dinner food so everyone else was able to eat. While I laid on the couch with my can of Vernor’s and a glass of water. And since what they were eating was too substantial, nobody asked if they could fix me anything light.

It made me think about my mom. When I was growing up I don’t remember being particularly coddled. When we were sick, we did get to lie on the couch and set up a tray table to have a place for our stuff, and Mom would sometimes bring us something to eat. I think we kids more waited on each other. Like playing restaurant.

But as a mom I’ve been the one to stock up on canned soup and gatorade and Vernor’s and poptarts and anyone else’s favorite sick foods, and to offer them throughout the day to whoever was prone on the couch.

I just want to be the one waited on once in a while.

Now, I have to say that once I was clear about what I wanted, someone would get it. It’s the being able to think clearly thing that took several days to get to this time around.

So I’m going to go crawl on the couch again, knowing this will post just after midnight. And maybe I’ll come back over and let you know on Facebook once it’s live.

But I’m not in a hurry to get up again anytime soon.