I have now officially been sick, and I mean down and OUT sick, not Oh-is-it-Friday-Yet-I-Want-a-Day-Off-to-Lounge-on-the-Couch-Guilt-Free-Sick, for ten days. I'm not whining, exactly, but I need to express the intensity of this malevolent virus.
The first sign was a sore throat, which soon matured from "My, that's irritating, no acidic drinks for me," to "Swallowing or speaking feels like gargling razor blades." Not bloody pleasant.
The next sign was body aches. Not the self aware, satisfying soreness of having had a great workout, but the from-your-marrow-outwards deep strength-obliterating foreboding that was accompanied by teeth-chattering chills that felt like frostbite in summer.
Predictably, these symptoms were followed by the stuffy head, nasal drip, and rattly lungs that are the music of mucus. Nose trumpeting, baritone guttural speech, and staccato coughing drumline are the music of this virus, to the point I swear when I spoke I sounded like Linda Blair, and the power of Christ apparently does NOT compel this virus away.
There's a headache too, but compared to the rest of the symptoms, that's just sprinkles on the suffering-sundae I am enduring. These symptoms have progressed and gone on for ten days. TEN DAYS.
Ten days of no training. Not even light cardio.
Ten days of eating what I can choke down because I can't really taste anything anyway, and feeling full means feeling sicker.
Ten days of being housebound, because going outside makes me woozy.
Yes, I've seen a doctor, went in to Urgent Care after 7 days like the labels on all my over-the-counter-might-as-well-be-placebos-for-all-the-good-they're-doing meds said to do, and that wonderful waste of 3 hours gave me only codeine cough syrup (in whose face my cough not only ignores, but actively scoffs, mocks barkingly as it hacks out of my overtired throat) and the assertion that my virus will go away on its own in time. Thanks, modern medicine, you're doing GREAT. We can offer erectile potency to geriatric gentlemen, but we can't cure the common FREAKING cold.
Incidentally, this is the FIRST year I've gotten the flu shot, and have gotten nasty bugs much like this one three time since.
Point is, I'm TRYING to keep in shape, and have been champing at the bit to start on an official cutting plan with the intent of getting on a stage in the not too unimaginable future, but before I even get going, I have hit what is most definitely a setback. In this time, I have grown bored of binge-watching even the best Hulu has to offer. I've seen what feels like every B horror movie released in the past decade. I'm OVER the couch like I'm over my first boyfriend from umpteen (ew I'm old) years ago. . . and in the wee hours of the morning, when my body keeps me awake with coughing, my brain itself to solving life's great mysteries. I have, at long last, learned the answer to two of life's questions, hitherto unanswered by theory or science.
.
.
.
I know why cats stare at the walls for no apparent reason, sometimes yowling, sometimes just transfixed.
I also know what happens to ALL those socks that mysteriously leave their partner somewhere between having been purchased, and being worn more than twice.
There are invisible, wall-dwelling Sock Gremlins that are in cahoots with our housecats. Only cats can see them, and they can understand their language. The cats watch these gremlins, which steal our socks for initial use as hammocks, then as food for their young. Our beloved cuddly pets yowl and blink in gremlin semaphore to relay when the humans will next be gone, so the gremlin expeditions may take place, procuring their supply of single socks unnoticed by humans. In return for their assistance, the Sock Gremlins reward our cats by letting bugs into the home, for the cats' amusement and hunting practice.
These gremlins also, for reasons I have yet to discern, to take workout gloves both singly and in pairs, only to return them after a new pair of gloves has been purchased.
You're welcome. You now have the answer to two of life's little first-world mysteries. You no longer need to ponder these questions. Hopefully I'll soon return to some semblance of health, or my underworked brain will offer up more plausible suggestions as the answer to great ridiculous riddles, and you'll waste your own time reading them. As I like to offer at least some kind of advice in these ramblings, let me offer the following:
Avoid the sick. They're spreaders of this plague and must be avoided.
Wash your hands. Like, all the time. Carry purell if you think that'll help, but wash your hands too.
Cover your mouth, when coughing. Coughing into your elbow or shoulder is best, because then you won't spread germs with your hands as much as if you'd coughed directly into those.
Eat nutritious food. Drink lots of water. Take vitamins. Exercise.
Good luck.
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