My great grandmother used to feel that if the weather would just go from lovely mild fall weather to a good hard freeze, cold season would cease to exist. Much to the dismay of the makers of NyQuil. While I’m not sure that the woman who wouldn’t let me sit on the bare ground for fear that the cold would get up through my lady bits and give me pneumonia should really be lauded as a sage on that which ills, it’s an interesting concept. We’ve gone from bitterly cold with negative wind chills back up to a drizzly mid 40’s. I can imagine that traveling from Antarctica to Seattle in a week’s time would be quite the shock to the system, so maybe she had a point.
Esteban has been sick since Thursday night; a horrible kind of sick that entails gut cramps and nausea and constant worries over whether the next fart will manifest itself in physical form. He’s borderline dehydrated and cold to the point of shivering every hour or so. At night, he takes advantage of my inner blast furnace and snuggles against me for heat. Meanwhile, for the first time since my last bout with a fever, I can tolerate it because the man is a six foot three ice pack. It was almost an exact replica of last year’s food poisoning, except not quite as violent and not nearly as fast a recovery. Five days later, he still has it. Unfortunately, he’s now dealing with it in San Jose, having to withstand a very dehydrating plane flight and making his fellow seatmates move every time he needed a visit to the head.
We were joking that it had to have been food poisoning and couldn’t possibly have been contagious, because if it were, I would have definitely had it, as I had a lot of close contact (heh) with him during the onset. However, the similarity to the symptoms that closed a couple of local schools was a little unnerving. And then on Sunday, I heard the first gut rumble and started to feel very hot.
My instinct at such times is to just stop eating anything solid and start pounding water, so I haven’t really had the gut cramps that were plaguing Esteban. The headache has been sort of annoying and just scrolling through documents is making my head feel spinny. Watching a Beyonce video this morning almost made me throw up (although that might not be the norovirus and some editorializing). I’m not sure that it really is norovirus, but at this point, if another person walks by my desk with a bag of microwave popcorn, I’m going to projectile vomit on them. Thank God for the vial of Aveda Blue Oil that I carry around in my purse. Between that and helping me survive in moldy hotel rooms (Hilton Chicago, I’m looking at you), it’s worth its weight in gold. Actually, gold might be cheaper by the ounce. But other than that, I’ve pretty much escaped unscathed. The only seriously objectionable thing is this nasty taste in my mouth that prevails after even the most vigorous brushing. I’ve even gone through two ampoules of Go Smile pear-flavored touch ups, just trying to quell the taste of ass from my mouth. How can I taste ass when I’ve only had water, chicken broth and one bagel in the last three days? It boggles the mind.
Esteban checked in before his conference and said that he was feeling hungry for the first time since Thursday night, which is a good sign. I’m forcing the issue by eating a bagel this morning. I figured that the first instance of seriously unbalanced carbs in months will shock the virus right out of my system. Or cause me to pass out and then I’ll get to go home sick and sit on the chaise and watch Buffy DVDs. A win-win-win situation.
I have to say, however, that all the water combined with the paleness and flushed cheeks has given me this great Liv Tyler complexion. Fever chills might be the next big thing in beauty.
Edited to add: the above was posted right before I walked into the bathroom and had a very unfortunate experience. I then decided that it was probably a good time to cash in another sick day.
