I’m sick. I went to bed last night with a sore throat and feeling hazy, and I woke up this morning with a fever and my throat feeling like I was trying to swallow a bowling ball. I called in to both jobs so I don’t infect anyone else (you’re welcome) and hopefully get some rest.
I hate being sick. Really I don’t know anyone who likes it, but I especially hate it. I have to try really hard not to be a baby and treat every twinge of pain or odd feeling like the onset of leprosy. I become super-aware of everything my body is feeling and feel the need to announce it to anyone around so they can help me with the diagnosis of this horrible affliction.
I probably have a cold, so I’ll just have to wait it out. I don’t get sick that often, about one real sickness every year, but when I do it’s a real doozy. Last year my wife had to drive me to the hospital at 2 a.m. because I had a temperature of 103 and I couldn’t stop shaking. After I threw up in the parking lot I felt better, I’ll admit, but we still headed to the emergency room. Luckily, they kept me waiting forever, misdiagnosed what I had, gave me some Tylenol and sent me back home only for my fever to spike and start shaking again 20 minutes later.
This time shouldn’t be all that drastic. Hopefully I can just rest today and start life again tomorrow. This will at least give me the chance to catch up on all the nerdy TV shows my wife hates.
I like staying home from work, but not like this. Not like this.