Friday, February 7, 2003

Being sick with the flu is like becoming really really drunk. You begin on this high, feeling the blood rush to your cheeks and becoming a little elevated. The heart pumps a little faster. Your edges soften a bit.

Then you become delirious. The heat is off the scale, and you may need some help. The only solution is to lie down. You sleep badly. Can't eat. You begin to really want this to be over, but nothing will work. Try some painkillers. They will help you, but not much. You're left with just lying. And waiting.

When the fever finally breaks, the hang-over takes over. You're regaining some consciousness but otherwise feel like shit. Lonely. Everybody else is busy busy busy. You can't work, so you're still waiting. Knowing that you will be back on your feet in a day or two. Your bones are aching now, and your throat feels like you just ate broken glass. And you're shivering. This is where I'm at now.

Finally, you will crawl back into existence. Still a bit groggy. The memories of the last few days kind of hazy. You promise to do your utmost not to let this happen again anytime soon. Yeah, like you have a choice.