Jan. 23rd, 2009

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Yesterday I woke up, and for the first time since I got the plague (monday morning) I felt almost coherent. After sitting around feeling my body for a few minutes I was pleased and decided that I had no fever anymore, and although I still had no voice either, I was almost HEALED, and it was thus time for a SHOWER and a HAIR WASH.

The Geek said, really? (he was home half-day, only working with the Y-kids where he had no sick hours to boot. He was also much better than me, since he was 3 days ahead on the bug wars, from me)

Yes, really. Bravely I went into the shower and steamed my whole head. (for those without fairly long hair of the kind that can get heavy, I may explain that this isn't a great idea to do if you have a head cold or any other kind of related bug, carrying all that wetness on yourself for literally hours, and don't even get me started on what happens if you blow-dry it).

So, I steamed and steamed myself and it felt so damn sweeet. I was thinking good thoughts, how I would maybe make it in Colorado after all, in spite of the recession, what I should give away to charity next month, how nice the new trainer is, how paisley is an underrated pattern and how trusty ponies should be able to retire on fields of clover and babbling brooks.

I climbed out of the shower and dried as much as possible of myself, I even put on a bra, for the first time in 3 days.

Then came the vertigo, and everything clamped up in my chest, that I didn't know was there, came knocking and saying HEY, WTF, What about US!

I barely made it to my bed, and I whispered to the geek, with my non-existent voice: why am I dizzy, can't breathe and wanting to vomit?
And he answered something about the inner/outer ear and the congestion and how I still had a fever.
The last words I remembered from his answer was: This really is a very nasty bug.

I slept some, and when I woke up I cried real TEARS because the only thing in the whole wide world that I had any desire to eat was Chinese Hot & Sour Soup, and my innards were gnawing like hungry worms inside me. I knew that if I got that hot and sour soup I would be HAPPY and CURED, but there was no soup at home, and I cried over the brutality of a disinterested universe.

More half baked sleep. And water. For some reason I started to dream a bout coca cola fountains, REAL FOUNTAINS, not as in food-court fountain-drink fountains. Since I started with water and skipped soda, a few weeks back, soda had actually begun to not taste so good, the one or two times I'd taken a sip. But the bug had it otherwise in my dreams.

Towards afternoon I crawled out of bed and managed some fruit, with a bitter bitter resentment gnawing in me about the lack of H&S soup still. I tried working a bit on the book job, which was manageable in small doses, I went on facebook and started cleaning out all the fucking applications I had "invites" to since way back when. The fact that I was actually doing something on facebook was as clear a signal as any, that I wasn't being my own healthy self.
And obviously facebook wasn't good for me, because I felt nausea again after a while and had to crawl back in bed.

Back in bed I mourned my lack of books about fairy godmothers, unicorns, princesses and brave men with hearts of gold. The only thing awaiting me on my bedside was social realism about fucked up British families, fucked up WWII essays, fucked up Turkish societal allegories - everything written in beautiful prose, pretending to be fairy tale material, but leaving you with wanting to slit your wrists from the lack of H&S soup and unicorns.

In the end I found a Christmas present I'd forgotten about, because it had been hidden beneath all those books: Buffy the vampire Slayer, season 8, the graphic novel album, part 2.

Thank the fairies. It wasn't exactly what I needed - to be honest, it was a bit too anguished and realistic, but it would have to do.

When the Geek came home I told him that he had really hurt me, by not having any H&S soup, and we needed to talk about our relationship in seriousness. He agreed to that, and then we ate some fruit and watched a double episode of Bones, snuggling. Because frankly, who else am I going to snuggle with that has the same bacteria?

I went to bed and slept and woke up and realized that I'd slept with my bra still on - the one I'd put on after that fateful shower the day before. My hair was in a braid and still wet, but my voice is starting to sound again - the sound is dreadful, kinda like that dead woman burping in The Grudge, but at least it's there.


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