According to my doctors I have a "really bad virus," although I'm not convinced it's that simple. When I shell out a $20 co-pay, I want to be told that my headache/fever/vomiting/frighteningly large glands are the result of something with a much better name than "really bad virus." And require better meds than Tylenol.
Alas. It looks like even after a week of fighting, my body is being left to fend for itself. While the battle of the insides rages on, I figured it couldn't hurt to think positively. Here's what I've been enjoying for the past few days:
- Getting to sleep with multiple blankets - even in the middle of August!
- Eating like a picky four-year-old. The staples of my diet are primarily saltines, popsicles, white rice, applesauce, and animal crackers. Actually, I was also able to stomach some carrots, green beans, and avocado today. Gold star!
- The realization that nausea might finally help me drop those last 5 pounds!
- Floating through work and having no idea how I finished those projects or where the time went (so... kind of like every day).
- The best dreams EVER. Including (1) the one where I am in the middle of tech for some show and I'm all pissed off because Miley Cyrus stole my sequined gown for the saloon scene and I realize it's because her dad is the director, even though everyone calls him Paul and he looks suspiciously like Adam McKay AND (2) the one where I "wake up" in a small room within an Australian airport to discover that some guy has taken my blood samples and possibly some of my organs to sell and that's why I'm so sick. YEAH. (That second one was so great and dramatic because I kept yelling "Look how sick I am! What have you done??" and the guy was crouched on the floor crying and yelling "I cahn't tell yuuuu" in an Aussie accent.)
So yeah, fun times all around. I guess while my face keeps sweating profusely and my glands continue to freak me out I can at least hope for some more awesome dreams. And since I probably can't truly blame some Aussie organ harvester, I'll go the usual route and blame the cats:
Damn you, flu cat! I said GET OUT!