(Editor’s note: Throwback Thursday. Being sick this week reminded me of a post from October 2014, probably the last time I felt this bad. I didn’t visit the doc this week, though.)
I sat in an exam room at the doctor’s office two weeks ago, waiting for the nurse to return from the lab with my test result. Gathering the sample for the lab involved a couple of really long cotton swabs and my nasal passages. “Unpleasant” is a nice way of putting it.
I tried to read my book, but my body ached all over, making it difficult to focus. I was so close to finishing the darn book, though, and wanted to keep going, but my reading seemed to be in slow motion. I gave up.
I left work early for the appointment. I should have stayed home, but we scheduled some lunchtime system maintenance that day, and I felt like I should be there. I wouldn’t want them to figure out they really didn’t need me. I had called in sick the day before, and they somehow survived. So, they may already suspect.
Sick days have been a rarity for me, though. I may have called in twice before in almost 25 years of work. Sure, once in a while, I’ll have some sinus crud that requires a doctor for a Z-pak prescription, but those don’t necessitate being out of work.
At Least It’s Not Ebola
The nurse knocked on the door. I’m not sure what she thought I might be doing, but she knocked and then came on in. She held out a paper mask for me. “Congratulations,” she said, “You’re flu case number one for us.”
I wanted to tell her I may be number one, but I sure felt like number two. However, I refrained. “What pharmacy do you want us to call in your prescription to?” she asked.
I told her.
“OK. The doctor will be here in just a minute.”
She left, and I put on the mask of shame and took the obligatory selfie to text to my wife. ‘At least it’s not Ebola’ I added and hit send.
A few minutes later, there was another knock at the door. What do they think I’m doing? The doc entered, wearing a mask, too. She did the standard stethoscope stuff, told me they called in my prescription and sent me on my way. I had to wear the mask of shame until I made it outside.
I felt bad about stopping by the pharmacy on the way home and potentially spreading the love, but I didn’t have much choice. I made it home and crawled into bed, staying there for much of the next three days.
Chinks in the Armor
A recently acquired sore foot meant I needed to rethink some of my running workouts, but this was not what I had in mind. I ended up not running or exercising for over a week. With eight weeks until marathon day, I’m not sure what the physical effects will be to my fitness. This is a first. The way the training was going, I was already mentally adjusting back my race expectations. The first few post flu workouts seem to indicate I will likely need to keep on adjusting in the wrong direction.
For most of the last 35 years, I have been illness free, but not necessarily as a result of any conscious actions. I am a big believer in washing hands and covering mouths when sneezing and coughing, but I’m not sure I ever had a flu shot. Guess I’m going to rethink that – the shot part, not the washing hands part.
Could it be time for a nutrition overhaul? Just because candy corn are the size of vitamins doesn’t necessarily mean they are good for you. If sugar is the evil some make it out to be, then I may need an exorcist.
Some say diet drinks are bad for you, too. Do I need to give up both Coke Zero and Diet Dr. Pepper? Could I even make it through the day without DDP? Would I want to? What about wheat? Some think it is worse than sugar.
Mysteries to ponder while my invincibility cloak is at the tailor for repair.
Thanks for reading,
