I got a flu shot this year, for the first time in eight years... so, CLEARLY, I got the flu. JUST MY LUCK. I have the immune system of a 90 year old man, living in a shanty, on Antarctica, wearing off-brand Uggs, and a Burlington Coat Factory parka.. so I get sick a lot. I haven't gotten the flu in like 15 years, and turns out it sucks harder than my Bissell Pet Hair Eraser. The fevers make me feel like I'm living in the land of misfit f*cking toys one second, freezing my lady balls off, and then like I'm in Hades chilling with Donald Trump's ancestors the next. It's too much for my super skinny body to handle.
Since this flu has hit my 30 year old body harder than my previous ailments, I thought I'd get a solid timeline together of what my week of sickness has felt like.
The Flu, Day One, 11:00am: I feel gross. Why am I so hot and sweaty? **checks for coworkers, then secretively puts my paws in my armpits to evaluate the severity of the situation** Maybe I'm pregnant... I always think I'm pregnant... but this could be the one. Turn my portable cubicle heater to cold and immediately direct it up my skirt... for preventive sweat measures.
7:31pm: Why does this cheese taste like sawdust? Honestly, if pregnancy causes me to hate cheese, just tie my tubes now.
Flu, Day Two, 2:45am: Wake up feeling like I've consumed three bottles of Andre $3.99 champagne sans any poor life choices or regrettable sexual experiences. Fall back asleep with my heating pad strapped to my head using a beanie with cat ears. It feels nice on my sinuses.
8:12am: Email work. I'm not sure of the severity of this illness yet, but it feels serious. Could be Malaria. Could be pregnancy. Hard to distinguish between the two. Try not to give too many details, except that I could be dying and if something happens to me, give my cat figurines to anyone but Kathy because she's the literal worst.
8:14am: Text my mom to ask if I can take Advil 11 hours after taking NyQuil. Also, ask how health insurance works, where Ohio is, what haggis is, and how to change the batteries in a smoke detector.
8:45am: Stumble into my kitchen wrapped up like a burrito in every blanket I could locate in my fever haze. Make sure I'm completely naked underneath so all my fever sweat soaks into the material meaning I have 17 loads of laundry to do post-sickness.
9:01am: Spend 45 minutes sitting on the floor in front of the dishwasher going through the 19 gallon-sized plastic baggies that I keep expired/illegal medicine in. Find some Dilaudid from 2008 that I was too big of a pussy to take or sell, four bottles of expired Tums, nine bottles of expired antibiotics that I refused to take, some suspiciously sticky Vagisil, and two surgical nose tools that were given to me as party favors after various surgeries.
9:04am: Wrap up one of the surgical nose tools for the company White Elephant gift exchange. *physically high five myself for being sick but f*cking hilarious* Sneeze gross flu snot on seven of the 19 blankets. Sniff snot blankets. Sniff myself. Shake pill bottles at the cats. Stay on the floor for another hour. Naked, but still wrapped in 19 blankets.
10:14am: Remove all five thermometers that I'm able to locate from the illegal narcotic hoard and set them on the table. Sniff each one repeatedly to determine if it's ever been in a cat's ass. Also, let the cats sniff each thermometer to see if they respond to any of them which will confirm that thermometer is, in fact, reserved for cat asses. Because... pheromones, or something.
10:20am: Decide that none of these thermometers are safe for human intra-oral temperature taking and will need to purchase a sixth $20 thermometer in order to avoid possible Hepatitis, or worms, or whatever you get from putting a cat's ass thermometer in your mouth.
11:18am: Fall asleep half on/half off the couch chaise like a drunk toddler for five hours. Leave a
drool stain that no amount of scrubbing or Pinterest suggestions will remove.
5:18pm: Text every nurse friend I have to ask if taking NyQuil and ibuprofen at the same time is going to kill me... just in case my mom and Google were wrong.
9:45pm: Bring absolutely every possible implement I could ever need for the next three days to bed. Salt and Vinegar chips? Check. Case of Diet Coke? Check. Two boxes of tissues? Check. Three gallon sized illegal narcotic medicine hoard baggies? Check. Cat toys? Check. Cat treats to make them like me? Check. Extra pair of underwear? Check. Ass thermometer (in case I get desperate)? Check. Every remote control within a 40 foot radius? Check. Hard copies of every Twilight novel (just in case)? Check. Vibrator? Check. Two phone chargers? Check. Vibrator charger? Check. Extra batteries? Check. Long stick to turn on/off lights and twirl like a baton? Check.
Flu, Day Three, 3:18am: Can't sleep so take 87,234 pictures of my throat with my phone trying to get the perfect angle of my red, blistery, throat and swollen half tonsil. Luckily, I got my tonsils removed in Wyoming, so I still have half of one left. Wyoming doctors aren't the most thorough. Wyoming doctors are only marginally better than Urgent Care doctors and those doctors behind the little cardboard cubicles at Walgreens. Delete 873 throat pictures to make room for nose pictures. It's redder up there than a GMO tomato.
10:43am: Track down flu patient zero by making diagram of who could've given this to me, Criminal Minds style. Plan revenge and practice the bitchy, passive aggressive face I plan to give them in the office hallway.
10:58pm: Alternate brushing my hair and my cats' hair for the first time in a few days... with the same brush.
11:54am: Take a DayQuil and get high AF for a solid 90 minutes. Push the horrific mess of laundry, tissues, and tears into a pile; like a giant, adult Hungry Hungry Hippo and proceed to cover everything with a blanket so I can't see the mess. If I can't see it, it doesn't exist
2:35pm: Snapchat myself singing Smelly Cat like Phoebe Buffet and send to 17 people asking if I sound sexy with my sick, man voice.
7:45pm: Watch three cat documentaries in a row. Cry for fifteen minutes when I learn that whiskers have nerves and blood vessels because Chunk has lost SO MANY WHISKERS. Forcefully snug each cat against their will and cry into their fur for 3 minutes each while rocking back and forth in my emotional sickness fog.
9:14pm: Send SexyPants one of the 897298374 pictures of my inflamed blistery throat asking if he'd make out with me. When he says no, ask for a Roomba as a sickness gift.
Day Four: 9:14am: After singing sad, gargly, shower songs while lying on my shower floor for 45 minutes...decide to forgo my Jewish doctor requirement for one day and head to Urgent Care. Choose to wear stained Ugg boots, no bra, and my two inch thick glasses so everyone understands how homeless I feel on the inside.
11:13am: Steal 20 long, fancy, q-tips from Urgent Care in repayment for my hour long wait. They're great for cleaning out my cats' ears.
11:14am: Get caught stealing 20 long, fancy, q-tips. Awkwardly explain that I wanted to feel how soft the little puff at the end is.
11:16am: Discover I don't actually have the flu, but have a horrific bacterial infection that could have been nipped in the bud three days ago. Realize that I am not, in fact, an adult yet.
I used to get sick and like recover within a few days because I had drinking to do, people to sleep with, workouts to complete, engagements to engage at. Now, at 30, my recovery apparently requires antibiotics. In the next 48 hours, I hope to come out of my fever coma, dust the crumbs out of my sheets, shower for the first time in a fortnight, tackle that blanket fort filled with laundry, and get my ass back to my super exciting cubicle filled with cat paraphernalia. I hope no one else got a flu shot, but if you did, I hope you screamed when they gave it to you (like I did) just to freak out your coworkers. That makes it almost worth it.
XOXO,
K
