I scored 100.5º F on the thermometer Friday night. That seems to have been the worst of it. Xy made some awesome chicken soup, and my fever broke that night.
Saturday I felt better, but by no means well. A dose of Maximum Strength Thera-Flu helped me sleep both nights, and I took some Mucinex during the day.
On Easter Sunday I felt almost healthy, but weak and easily fatigued. I went to Paul & Helen’s party, but left after a very short stay. I just didn’t have the energy.
On Monday I went to work, but still felt drained. Xy & I went to get oysters after I got home, because it was Xy’s last day off; I continued to abstain from alcohol, even though Lent was over, in hopes of speeding my recovery.
This thing was weird. I had thought it was a cold, but the fever makes me think it was flu. Whatever it was, it had four or five very distinct phases.
Today I’m feeling better than ever. I’m still blowing snot, but it doesn’t seem to have moved into my chest as some predicted. Maybe it was the cough suppressant. Maybe it was the chicken soup. Maybe it’s all this clean living. Maybe I just got lucky. Or maybe I’ll relapse tomorrow.
One thing for sure: The dextromethorphan in my fever-baked brain produced some interesting mental states. When I closed my eyes, I found myself reading from imaginary books, and mouthing the words. It’s awakened an old interest of mine.