Ohhh Flu Season… how I dislike you so.
It’s true, you caught me early this year after all that cherished family time around the holidays. How’s the saying go, it only takes one…?
Well, sure enough, that’s exactly how my families flu epidemic started. One person’s sniffle took out the whole lot of us.
Shortly after returning home to our separate ends of the country our flu battles begun.
Yet after a week-long stretch of being knocked out cold with this flu of mine I suddenly awoke one morning with a cloudy-headed surge of inspiration to write about it. Don’t ask me why…I blame my flu-filled brain…
I suppose if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em, right?
So I shall title this random piece of prose ‘Flu Season Vengeance‘, because after carefully avoiding getting sick last year… I believe that’s exactly what it is.
Flu Season Vengeance:
My right nostril is completely plugged. However, it’s doing a good job balancing my left ear that I seem to of lost all but 10% of my hearing in. I was up half the night fighting a battle with my own body. It started with my lungs, they tried to brawl their way out while my chest did it’s best to keep them caged in place.
You’d think I‘d be concerned upon waking after short spells of 20-minute sleep intervals to find that my eyes have all but been glued shut. Layers upon layers of built up ‘sleep’, as I call it, probably mixed with snot and mucus that appears to be spewing from every open socket in my body has made them this way.
I peel this sleep away, one crusty layer at a time, and I watch as my eyelid pulls back against this crust creating a slight crevice where air, the first all morning, can escape into. It’s already as dry as the Sahara desert up there, I don’t quite know what other impacts this air thinks it’s going to have.
The sleep comes off in layers. There’s the first, then the second, followed by a few straggling pieces I manage to wipe away with the tip of a dampened washcloth. The coolness is soothing to my irritated eyelids and I wonder why I havent resorted to this sooner.
I study my reflection in the mirror. I look as though I’ve spent the night fighting my way out from the grasp of an angry mob. Maybe I have?
If this is so then I appear to of lost the battle.
My bun hangs off the side of my head. It’s not quite a bun, not quite a ponytail. I honestly don’t know what to call it. Because of the slow response time my brain seems to be having from the rest of my body this morning, a bad hair do will have to do.
My eyes appear even worse if that’s possible. I lean closer to the mirror to properly inspect them.
Yup, they’re just what I thought. Yellowish white slits that are now overshadowed by a mass of red inflamed broken blood vessels, the aftereffects of that fight I mentioned between my hacking chest, congested lungs and flu infested body.
As I’m inspecting my horror movie eyes I feel it rise from the pit of my stomach first.
Thanks to my delayed response time that appears to be happening this morning, my reaction is late.
I know even before my eyes suddenly snap shut what’s about to happen, and my body lurches forward as a collection of snot and mucus and spit splays from my mouth and lands on the mirror 2 inches in front of my face.
It’s green. More green than I’ve ever seen anything from my body be. In a weird way I’m fascinated, and then thankful it’s now distorting the reflection on the mirror in front of me. If this is the kind of stuff that’s inside me, I can only imagine what else I might find on the outside.
I muscle together my wavering strength and back myself away from the mirror. I turn my delayed balloon-headed attention towards the medicine cabinet.
A Nyquil pill, the 10 ml measuring cup accompanied by its bottle of Robitussin. A heap of Vicks for my chest, nose, throat… maybe I should just bathe in it? What else can I find?
A handful of cough drops, throat spray, a few Emergen-C packs for later.
In one non-quick nor elegant swipe, I gather these temporary saviors in my arms and shuffle my way back to my bed. The one where I plan to spend the entirety of my day, save a trip to the bathroom to pee or to the kitchen for a mug of tea.
Those aspirations can be for another hour though, for right now my medicated cocktail awaits me, and shortly after, the sanctity of possible sleep.