On the last week of the first month of my little project, I faced a set-back. Yes, I had an epic three days off work. Three possible days of freedom. Three days full of the potential for some hip-hop dancing, eavesdropping on strangers, or eating my body weight in Sour Jujubes. Three days spent, in reality, sweating out a fever on my parents couch. Peggy Lee, Michael Buble, Elvis; these singers have made “fever” synonymous with lust and sexuality. Fever = desirable. I’m here to tell you: it’s not. Unless you find the night sweats sexy. In which case, I was totally your dream gal this past week.
I tend to push aside the idea that I might actually be too sick to work/function properly. Once, a couple years ago, I felt I was too busy studying for exams to go to the doctor and decided to let nature take its course. Three nights in a row I woke up with my entire face swollen from fever. And I’m talking Elephantitus of the face, Frankenstein’s monster like facial features, not just puffy eyes. Beyond unsafe health-wise. I swore post-swelling to take better care of myself… Which is why two full weeks have gone by (as evidenced by my “I did nothing” post last week) without my taking a rest, or doing anything more than wishing away my sickness. Turns out, that is not the cure for the common cold, flu or fever. Neither are romance novels, contrary to what I may have posited previously
What does work? Cold compresses. Wrapped, Grandma-styles, around the wrists, elbows, forehead, and neck. Try it sometime. Then, maybe, you will understand when I say that this solution is the Buckley’s Cough Syrup of non-medicinal fever cures. Feels terrible (fever sweats +ice-water soaked cloth + wet sheets = my own version of hell), but it works. Totally sexy, eh Buble? What else helps? Drinking an ocean of liquids: tea – both herbal and otherwise -, water, juice, more tea. No wine, sadly. And sleep. Delicious, oft-passed over, sleep. I feel like we sacrifice sleep a lot. The saying “you can sleep when you are dead”: does that even make sense? If we don’t sleep, there isn’t much energy for living, is there?
So what would I have done with my one day and beyond this week:
I would have gone to my friend Kerry’s “election party”. An event that, while being as nerdy as it sounds, would have made these elections a lot more palatable. Wine tends to help with that. I for sure would have drunk some wine. (I did manage to pull my sick-ass out of bed to vote. I hope you did too.)
I would have watched less television. There is something about being too sick to move or think that just begs you to sit on the couch watching hours of television. I now find myself thinking of my limited daily activities in terms of plot sequencing and laugh-tracks. It’s probably time to step away from the remote.
I would have wandered in the sunshine. I have not had time for a good wander in a while. A good, get lost in the city, walk ‘till my feet hurt wander. I can barely make it up the stairs right now and thinking of a sunshine wander is making my mouth water.
It would have been nothing crazy. Just more. But more wasn’t for me this week, and I guess that is alright. The fact that I felt guilty for not being at work despite a 103 degree fever might be a sign. This is the work-life balance fail I have spoken of. When your body says no more, it’s time to listen. Or, face the possibility of a night mummified in cold compresses. Choose wisely.
P.S. I thought of putting a picture up to share my fever with you all. But I want you all to be able to think of me without fear. Here is a picture of my dog Ollie instead:
Our hair is roughly the same colour, so feel free to pretend that adorable mug is mine. We share the hat.