Last Monday, when I saw my therapist, he told me he had a cold. It seemed pretty bad too, because he kept coughing and sneezing and blowing his nose. I didn’t think too much of this, and since I rarely get sick anymore (since I stopped my monthly cycle, my frequent colds also stopped, go figure!) it didn’t occur to me I might be out of commission for a few days. But the rare times I do get sick, I get really sick!
Well, lo and behold, come Thursday, I woke up with a tickle in the back of my throat and felt slightly feverish. I felt like calling in sick to work, but I didn’t because I can’t afford to. I stopped at the grocery store and stocked up on some store-brand Day Quil, NyQuil, and Robitussin for the inevitable cough that would come later. I slogged through my day, feeling slightly groggy, but otherwise not too bad. I saw my therapist again that night.
“Guess what. I got your cold,” I said. I knew he was the culprit, because no one else I know has a cold. He spent the next five minutes apologizing. He offered me the box of tissues that sit on the end table for his crying clients (so I haven’t needed them yet). He actually looked worried about me! I swear he’s the sweetest person I ever met (why couldn’t I have married someone like him?) I assured him I wasn’t mad at him or upset in any way and it wasn’t that bad anyway.
I spoke too soon because Friday I was worse, and so sleepy from both the virus and the medication I could do practically nothing but sleep after I made it home from work. How I managed to get through THAT day I don’t know. I was too groggy and sick to even want to spend much time blogging. I felt retarded. My thoughts oozed slowly like January molasses. I slept for about 14 hours straight.
Today was much the same only worse. My cold has become the Martian Death Flu. I was achy and I felt hot so I took my temperature and it was 103. My cough was cruel and relentless. I sounded like a barking seal. My nose felt like it was stuffed with cotton balls. I’ve already been through probably an entire box of tissues. The weather was pretty but I spent all of today curled up in my bed, sleeping and reading a little bit in between fever dreams I can’t remember. I know I won’t die, but I sure don’t feel too alive.
I think this disease peaked earlier today, because now I’m beginning to feel a little better. I actually ate some dinner and now I’m drinking some coffee. The cough has subsided somewhat and my temperature is down to almost normal. I feel like tomorrow I might be able to join the living again.
Transference is a great thing, but this was the wrong kind! Next time he gets sick, he should warn me in advance so I can get one of those space suits like those researchers who work with the Ebola virus.