One morning a couple weeks ago I woke up and tried to get ready for the day. But in the space of about two hours or so, I was run over by one of those things that comes on in a big hurry, ravages just about every system in your body, makes you tired all over, and leaves you on the couch depleted and not caring about anything at all, because it takes too much effort even to care. I wanted to do exactly three things: stay on the couch and not move at all, watch the clock (because hubby had the same thing a few days before, and from his experience I knew when the major symptom thresholds would probably be), and sleep. At least when I was out, I wasn't in agony.
As terrible as this stuff was, I'll at least give it credit for doing its thing and being gone. The next morning I felt a little better (though not enough to go back to work), and by that night I was reasonably mobile and my appetite was returning with a vengeance. A good night's sleep later and I woke up feeling nothing had ever been wrong. (And I was hungry as hell, which I remedied in style later that day.) I spent that afternoon scrubbing and disinfecting every square inch of the house, intent on killing every germ I could.
That was a couple weeks ago, and physically I've been fine since. My body has, at least. The mind, on the other hand, was really taken aback by how quickly this struck. Unlike the colds and other things I usually get, there was no real warning this was about to knock me over. I'm someone who takes good hygiene to ridiculous levels, and I've therefore avoided most of these kinds of bugs, but sometimes no matter how careful you are, it's just not your day.
The logical part of my brain tells me it isn't worth worrying about; you've just had it and you're unlikely to get the same thing again anytime soon, and if you take all the precautions you can, then you've done your part. And even if you did catch it again, you know what to expect and what to do, right? But the emotional part of my brain is still trying to catch up with that, and honesty compels me to admit I've had to stifle a panic attack or two.
I know as time passes, the more distance I put between this illness and me, I'll be fine. My confidence is coming back with each day, and soon I'll be back to my usual self. But as unprepared as I was for the illness itself, the way it left me a little rattled has surprised me more than anything. But I'll soon rebound, I know.
As terrible as this stuff was, I'll at least give it credit for doing its thing and being gone. The next morning I felt a little better (though not enough to go back to work), and by that night I was reasonably mobile and my appetite was returning with a vengeance. A good night's sleep later and I woke up feeling nothing had ever been wrong. (And I was hungry as hell, which I remedied in style later that day.) I spent that afternoon scrubbing and disinfecting every square inch of the house, intent on killing every germ I could.
That was a couple weeks ago, and physically I've been fine since. My body has, at least. The mind, on the other hand, was really taken aback by how quickly this struck. Unlike the colds and other things I usually get, there was no real warning this was about to knock me over. I'm someone who takes good hygiene to ridiculous levels, and I've therefore avoided most of these kinds of bugs, but sometimes no matter how careful you are, it's just not your day.
The logical part of my brain tells me it isn't worth worrying about; you've just had it and you're unlikely to get the same thing again anytime soon, and if you take all the precautions you can, then you've done your part. And even if you did catch it again, you know what to expect and what to do, right? But the emotional part of my brain is still trying to catch up with that, and honesty compels me to admit I've had to stifle a panic attack or two.
I know as time passes, the more distance I put between this illness and me, I'll be fine. My confidence is coming back with each day, and soon I'll be back to my usual self. But as unprepared as I was for the illness itself, the way it left me a little rattled has surprised me more than anything. But I'll soon rebound, I know.
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