Anatomy of my Illness

It's official. I feel like the toenail scrapings of a particularly filthy troll, am convinced that this hell-virus will be the end of me, and have abandoned all hope of ever enjoying the blissful benefits of simply feeling well again. Had I any energy, I'd be preparing a running sheet for my funeral. But I cannot summon even that paltry effort ... I am doomed.

Melodrama? Moi?!

However, having sunk right down into the depths of viral illness these, I've had a chance to reflect on the stages I went through in reaching this point.

Stage One: Might I be coming down with something?
Feeling a little blue ... body temperature fluctuating ... is that a tickle in my throat? Quick, grab a megadose of Vitamin C, down plenty of water, and make sure you don't have a late night. Don't worry, you'll fight this off, you always do! An early evening, plenty of sleep, and you'll be just fine.

Stage Two: I'm not feeling too flash
No need to panic; I had an early night, but my throat is really sore and my head hurts. Um ... I know, aspirin. Aspirin always does the trick. Aspirin, orange juice with breakfast, more Vitamin C, and I'd better check that my first student's immune system is OK, don't want to pass on this little bug. Oh, and I'll cancel today's run - no need to stress this poor little body any further right now.

Stage Three: Time to start taking this seriously
I have no energy, I can't swallow, I'm having aural hallucinations and my temperature's a degree higher than usual. Perhaps I'd better stay home today. Still no reason not to attend that concert tomorrow night.

Stage Four: Oh dear
Fever. The cancellation of long-anticipated events. I've missed a concert, writer's group and haven't even been able to kiss my husband on his birthday. Misery. Will I ever recover? No. I can't imagine feeling any different to this ghastliness ... perhaps I'd better get my affairs in order. Damn, I haven't even got the energy to do that. They'll just have to sort it all out when I'm gone. How many times have I read this sentence? I can't remember. I'll just try to sleep again ... but my throat hurts so much ... how many hours until my next dose of Codis?

And now, let's switch to anticipatory mode ...

I believe that I will eventually reach:

Stage Five: Post-Viral
Yippee!  The world is wonderful again! I have so much energy! I can do anything. Put the brakes on, sweetheart, don't go wild - you're in recovery mode! But doesn't this feel WONDERFUL?

Yep, I'll get there. Maybe even tomorrow morning! Now, where'd I put that Codis ... wonderful stuff ... if you can find it ...

If I do survive this, I'm going to Beaumaris again: