I spent Sunday afternoon holding a hot compress to Henri’s butt. Henri, my cream, miniature poodle is suffering from a swollen anal gland. My regular vet was unavailable for an after hour call and being through this once before I didn’t think there was any panic in waiting for Monday morning. The alternative was a drive to the city and although I wouldn’t think twice if it was urgent, I felt Henri could wait and in the meantime I would administer what I know. Warm, Epsom Salt soaked facecloths applied to his back end helped to break the abscess and release some of the fluid from the egg sized swelling. We kept the abscess hole open all week so it drained fully and I’m happy to say he’s back to normal and there’s only one hole where it should be now.
Then Sunday evening a sense of heaviness enveloped my neck, jaw and nasal area. It felt like someone had opened the top of my head and poured in liquid plaster and it was beginning to set. We thought uh-oh, a bad cold was circulating the shop, guess it’s my turn. By bedtime my brains were pounding out their woe, making for a fitful sleep.
Misery loves company and Hubby had been experiencing much of the same symptoms but complained less. By Monday we were both swinging on the hinges of death’s door. Yes, I’m exaggerating, but only a bit. I felt like all my energy had been zapped, and I shuffled when I walked about the house with barely enough strength to left a leg, even the fat of my buttocks ached, what was up with that? Then after I was down for the count the kicker came. My left eye had been sore and I stopped using mascara a few days before and it chose now to bubble up with infection so I looked like a dog’s regurgitated breakfast. I not only felt like crap, now I looked like it. I’m not a wimp, but this bout of sickness will have the burliest of men crying for their mommy.
I’ve been living in a phlegm fog and it stripped me of caring about life let alone the shop. My focus was now on immediate concerns, like will I make it to the bathroom? Is there any more Kleenex? What day is this? Today I am back at work but I’m slower than a three legged turtle and only fit to get through the pile of emails.
All week I could barely muster the will to chew let alone cook. Then the right side of my jaw froze and I could only open my mouth half way before the agonizing pain shot through my head. Food was tasteless and my face hurt, that took out any desire to eat but I knew I had to feed the cold and my body, keep it sustained through this viral invasion.
Food preparation was trying and exhausting. We live in a small town, nothing delivers, not even the pizza joint. If something edible had been brought to the door, no matter how genetically modified, deep fried or MSG saturated, I would have eaten it and licked my plate in appreciation that I didn’t have to make it. Sometimes when I stood to make a meal, my legs threatened to buckle. I spent four days on my backside, exhausted three boxes of Kleenex and allowed my hair to look like an accidental oil spill from a tube of Brylcream. I didn’t care if I died, and if I did, didn’t worry that the mortuary folks would see me in this state.
I barely spoke this week. Ask hubby...this is an anomaly but he was too sick to appreciate it. My mouth travels faster than the speed of light. My tongue is in constant motion, flapping on about this and that, my every thought verbalized to select hearing. Usually my words travel through one ear and out the other; I suppose that’s the reason he doesn’t remember much that I say so my quietness was probably the strongest indication I was sick and perhaps why I received as much sympathy as I did. Every time I tried to do something he hobbled over to rescue me. We were like two old drunks holding each other up, taking turns on the sofa and falling in and out of sleep like babies.
Yes, it’s been a trip to hell and back. Teeter tottering through chills and fevers like being on a menopausal carnival ride; zipping up polar fleece to frantically rip it off moments later. Hubby kept the wood stove fire going and the house was so stinking hot my lips chapped, but I shivered as if standing naked at the North Pole. I felt like a chicken on a spit, rotating close to the heat and then away from it. Kicking off the covers through the night and moments later grabbing them tight.
We managed to get by and no one left the house in a body bag. But….what I want to know is what the hell was this scourge? This isn’t my generation’s cold and there's nothing common about it! This is a newer, meaner, evil virus; the little four letter word “cold” doesn’t quite describe it. What is this mutation that leaves us in phlegm trenches, wandering if we’ll make it out alive? Almost drowning in a sea of sometimes blood streaked mucus with the consistency of plasticine?
I’m lucky. I don’t punch 9-5 for someone else, so I can stay home a few days without the world coming to an end, no pressure or guilt to pile on the misery. Luckily I have Shane and Deb to hold the reigns and even more lucky, we didn’t all get it at one time. Shane had this last week, Deb before, so it has run the shops course. They either have more stamina than I do or I had something different because they showed for work each day. Saints I say!
I showered this morning and prepared to show my face this afternoon. I’m drained to the core and feel the dull ache of sickness still hanging on. Hubby says we’ve gone through the bottom and now are working our way out. That sounds about right.
I’m not very attractive right now but still don’t care. My chapped lips are darker, resembling the pigment of youth when I didn’t need to paint them red to show contrast with my skin. I suppose that’s some sort of perk. My eyes are swollen and no bigger than pee holes in the snow. The infection has abated, leaving only slightly red tinged skin where my lashes live. The violent sneeze remains, the fire in the hole that can blow a sphincter out. I don’t wish this on my worst enemy and if there is any advice to be had, hang on to things and cross your legs when you feel the burn rising….and oh yes, I highly recommend Depends……...
Then Sunday evening a sense of heaviness enveloped my neck, jaw and nasal area. It felt like someone had opened the top of my head and poured in liquid plaster and it was beginning to set. We thought uh-oh, a bad cold was circulating the shop, guess it’s my turn. By bedtime my brains were pounding out their woe, making for a fitful sleep.
Misery loves company and Hubby had been experiencing much of the same symptoms but complained less. By Monday we were both swinging on the hinges of death’s door. Yes, I’m exaggerating, but only a bit. I felt like all my energy had been zapped, and I shuffled when I walked about the house with barely enough strength to left a leg, even the fat of my buttocks ached, what was up with that? Then after I was down for the count the kicker came. My left eye had been sore and I stopped using mascara a few days before and it chose now to bubble up with infection so I looked like a dog’s regurgitated breakfast. I not only felt like crap, now I looked like it. I’m not a wimp, but this bout of sickness will have the burliest of men crying for their mommy.
I’ve been living in a phlegm fog and it stripped me of caring about life let alone the shop. My focus was now on immediate concerns, like will I make it to the bathroom? Is there any more Kleenex? What day is this? Today I am back at work but I’m slower than a three legged turtle and only fit to get through the pile of emails.
All week I could barely muster the will to chew let alone cook. Then the right side of my jaw froze and I could only open my mouth half way before the agonizing pain shot through my head. Food was tasteless and my face hurt, that took out any desire to eat but I knew I had to feed the cold and my body, keep it sustained through this viral invasion.
Food preparation was trying and exhausting. We live in a small town, nothing delivers, not even the pizza joint. If something edible had been brought to the door, no matter how genetically modified, deep fried or MSG saturated, I would have eaten it and licked my plate in appreciation that I didn’t have to make it. Sometimes when I stood to make a meal, my legs threatened to buckle. I spent four days on my backside, exhausted three boxes of Kleenex and allowed my hair to look like an accidental oil spill from a tube of Brylcream. I didn’t care if I died, and if I did, didn’t worry that the mortuary folks would see me in this state.
I barely spoke this week. Ask hubby...this is an anomaly but he was too sick to appreciate it. My mouth travels faster than the speed of light. My tongue is in constant motion, flapping on about this and that, my every thought verbalized to select hearing. Usually my words travel through one ear and out the other; I suppose that’s the reason he doesn’t remember much that I say so my quietness was probably the strongest indication I was sick and perhaps why I received as much sympathy as I did. Every time I tried to do something he hobbled over to rescue me. We were like two old drunks holding each other up, taking turns on the sofa and falling in and out of sleep like babies.
Yes, it’s been a trip to hell and back. Teeter tottering through chills and fevers like being on a menopausal carnival ride; zipping up polar fleece to frantically rip it off moments later. Hubby kept the wood stove fire going and the house was so stinking hot my lips chapped, but I shivered as if standing naked at the North Pole. I felt like a chicken on a spit, rotating close to the heat and then away from it. Kicking off the covers through the night and moments later grabbing them tight.
We managed to get by and no one left the house in a body bag. But….what I want to know is what the hell was this scourge? This isn’t my generation’s cold and there's nothing common about it! This is a newer, meaner, evil virus; the little four letter word “cold” doesn’t quite describe it. What is this mutation that leaves us in phlegm trenches, wandering if we’ll make it out alive? Almost drowning in a sea of sometimes blood streaked mucus with the consistency of plasticine?
I’m lucky. I don’t punch 9-5 for someone else, so I can stay home a few days without the world coming to an end, no pressure or guilt to pile on the misery. Luckily I have Shane and Deb to hold the reigns and even more lucky, we didn’t all get it at one time. Shane had this last week, Deb before, so it has run the shops course. They either have more stamina than I do or I had something different because they showed for work each day. Saints I say!
I showered this morning and prepared to show my face this afternoon. I’m drained to the core and feel the dull ache of sickness still hanging on. Hubby says we’ve gone through the bottom and now are working our way out. That sounds about right.
I’m not very attractive right now but still don’t care. My chapped lips are darker, resembling the pigment of youth when I didn’t need to paint them red to show contrast with my skin. I suppose that’s some sort of perk. My eyes are swollen and no bigger than pee holes in the snow. The infection has abated, leaving only slightly red tinged skin where my lashes live. The violent sneeze remains, the fire in the hole that can blow a sphincter out. I don’t wish this on my worst enemy and if there is any advice to be had, hang on to things and cross your legs when you feel the burn rising….and oh yes, I highly recommend Depends……...
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