As TFMD mentioned in her last post, we've been having some drama with a side of drama around the Downing-Marsh household. But we were forced to put the Tyler situation on hold temporarily because I came down with a very VERY nasty flu.
[Details follow - it ain't pretty - you've been warned]
At first they said Influenza-A, but because it's not your usual flu season, they're thinking I have (DAH DAH DUMMMM!) swine flu. Just flippin' great. And how did I pick up this nasty bug, you ask? Not a clue. I haven't been to Mexico or Canada in the last few months and I don't work around livestock. It either came from one of my countless Mexican farmer friends* (or "amigos" as we say), or perhaps it's possible to get it from a cat. I know that's not the current medical thinking, but I swear there were a few times right after Elvis got his bug when the little feline bastard deliberately sneezed on me. As in he turned his head right at me and -atchoo!- sick kitty phlegm akimbo.
At first the only symptom was a persistent, shallow cough. As I commonly pick up a short cold with the change of seasons, we simply thought that was the extent of it. And then last Sunday night, head-swelling congestion and the feeling I'd been hit by a truck full of angry Scotsmen.
On Monday, I got the flu diagnosis after the nurse rammed a long Q-tip up my swollen sinus cavities. Came home and rested. Took my codeine cough syrup, which has two side effects: 1) nausea; and 2) constipation. So by midday Tuesday, I was one stopped up dude. And I couldn't keep anything down. Not a single saltine, not a single sip of 7-up. Even after there was nothing left in the chamber, the tummy-gun kept firing. I was dry-heaving nonstop from Noon until we finally went to the ER at around midnight. And by that time I was so dehydrated I couldn't see straight and would try to heave with the slightest movement.
Swedish runs a nice ER, and fortunately it was a slow night. I was processed quickly and they hooked me up with a couple bags of saline and some Zofran for the nausea. It's funny what names I remember from Sam's chemo days.
Raechelle stayed with me the entire time, holding my hand, stroking my arm or my forehead, keeping me upbeat when I was close to panicking (surprise, surprise, I'm not a big fan of hospitals, especially being a patient in one). We talked about the honeymoon and found humor in the weirdest subjects. Not that there was any doubt in my mind, but my girl really went the distance for me, and it totally made the difference in my recovery.
They finally released me at 4:30AM with a shopping list of pharmaceuticals.
I'm not as wobbly today, but just typing this blog post has sapped my morning energy reserve, so I'm gonna go recuperate.
Once again, for the record, I think it was the cat.
* That's a joke. I don't really have countless Mexican farmer friends. Not even several.