i spent today doing exactly what i did yesterday; namely, blowing my nose, watching tv and wallowing in my misery. i am by far the worst sick person/patient in the universe (and am at my all-time most obnoxious when i'm getting my teeth cleaned, as my grandpa is my dentist and i therefore have zero annoyance filter. all of his assistants probably despise me). this is how horrible i am at being under the weather: as a kid and a teenager, i only had a few recurrent dreams and the one that was the most devastating was also the one that from the outside appears to be the most innocuous. each and every time i was sick, for every single night of said illness, i would dream that my mom had come into my room to put a giant glass of water on my nightstand. then, i would wake up in the middle of the night, parched and dying of thirst, and so thrilled that i had water waiting for me. it was only then that i realized, every time, that the water wasn't there. it was always a crushing blow. and yes, this happened every time and no, i never thought ahead and got water before i went to sleep, and yes, i slept downstairs in a room right off the kitchen and was perfectly capable of getting a glass when i woke up panic-stricken in the middle of the night. i offer no explanations - only the truth. it was terrible.
as an adult, i haven't gotten any better. as i've mentioned, luke had this first and while he was at his sickest, he steam-cleaned the bathroom and the kitchen and took the dog for walks and dressed himself like a normal human being.* i, on the other hand, completely dropped off the face of the earth this weekend and did nothing but fantasize about the food i was eating and wished i could taste. i am insufferable.
so, all day, i have been bonded to the couch, water glass at hand!, wearing the same pajamas i've been wearing since friday night (pajamas i took off yesterday to shower and then put right back on - i am not ashamed), watching countless hours of the tube and trying to get through "the girl who kicked the hornet's nest" on netflix. (for some reason, despite reading all the books and loving the first two swedish films, i just cannot get into this third one, even now, when i have no energy for doing anything but getting into movies.) and, because i haven't exerted myself at all, i'm starting to feel better. however, i'm still so congested i feel like i've been punched in the face and i'm still pretty into mouth-breathing. in fact, i called out of work tomorrow (despite feeling ok and wanting to get the hell out of the house already), because the crux of my job is detecting smells and that is just not happening right now. i just ate leftover indian food with luke, and while he was having his mouth blown off by spiciness, i was chowing down, tasting nothing. i'm sure my tongue is really pleased about that.
side note: my aunt and uncle run a surplus warehouse that handles lots of household products and occasionally, they'll give luke and i a huge box full of paper towels, toilet paper and kleenex. the most recent gift was so enormous, i had no idea when we were going to get through all of it. mystery solved! in two days, i've gone through two and a half rectangular boxes of kleenex. i'm on my last box and i'm scared.
*granted, luke and i handle sickness differently. he loads up on dayquil and nyquil and is essentially medicated the entire time. if i can handle it, like this weekend, when i didn't have work or school, i stay far away from meds because i was told in my tenth grade biology class that those medications, in lowering fevers and slowing down mucus, actually lengthen your illness, as they slow your body's defense. saying no to drugs works for me in two ways: 1) it makes me think i'll get better faster and 2) it legitimizes my whining, as i really do feel horrible. i'd say that's a win win.
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