I had thought about wearing a mask on the plane when I traveled to see my parents. Yes, I would be one of those people who is overly cautious. Yes, I would look rather stupid. No, I didn’t get sick of smelling my own breath because I never bought a mask. It probably wouldn’t have helped as I’m positive I got sick after the plane ride. This is beside the point, but it was one of the only things I held onto during my moments between being chilly and sweaty. I even surfed the Internet thinking I could, maybe, pinpoint the time I got sick.
I can only say with confidence this virus traveling inside my body was ugly. I kept in the back of my mind to drink water as much as I could, and then when I started coughing, each time after I coughed. The mucus, thick and stubborn, in my throat. It was sore, but not as sore as it could’ve been. I was out of commission for two days. I only got up to use the bathroom, and even then I waited as long as possible. My fever broke three times.
I was able to hold off the really bad coughing fits until after I arrived back to Los Angeles, but I wasn’t able to concentrate on anything during the plane ride back. I could only close my eyes and listen to the sounds around me. I kept the cough drops within reach, my new best friends, and sucked on them one after another. Getting the flu knocked a productive visit/vacation into half where all I did was sleep, mumbled and grumbled, went in and out of dreams, and got out of bed only when necessary.
I left my parents’ house without getting everything I wanted done, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I was able to surprise my dad, went for a horseback ride with my mom, and finally met my parents’ dog. These things are priceless long after I’ve forgotten all about getting sick. Not quite yet, but hoping soon enough.
And yes, I’m hoping this serves as a reason for my not blogging recently. In other words, the flu knocked me on my ass and then kept me down. At the low point, I wondered if I was ever going to make it. Luckily, I did.