The Swine Flu Diaries: The Constitutional Phase

Tuesday

It was very early Tuesday morning. After the realization that I was really sick on Monday night, Mrs. Lone Coyote had made me a nice meal and tucked me into bed. But I could not sleep. My lower back was killing me. It was this odd pain, right in the middle of my back, that did not get better with position changes. It felt like a pig was standing on my back, digging its hooves into my vertebrae, and taking revenge for all of the bacon and carnitas I have enjoyed in the past decade. And the fever was out of control. I was burning up, sweating through my pajamas, and shaking with chills. It was awful.

As I dozed in and out of consciousness, I suddenly realized that Mrs. Lone Coyote was up and taking her temperature. Oh no, she now had the flu too, and seemed just as miserable as I was. While I was really sad that I had given her this badness, I was secretly happy that I might have some company staying home.

Misery loved company indeed when we finally got out of bed. Tuesday was spent with both of us flopped on the couch, sweating and groaning, mindlessly staring at DVDs of The L Word all day long. Boy, that show has just gotten terribly melodramatic and tedious in its later seasons. But I digress.

Remember that headache I'd had the previous day? It morphed into a monster that took over my entire head and neck and that Tylenol would not touch at all. Even my eyes hurt. And then there was the nausea that seemed to accompany it at all times. I have never had migraines, thank goodness, but if they are anything like that headache, I can maybe begin imagine the suffering that they cause.

We were in hell on the couch and nothing could was making it any better. Every fiber of my body ached and burned. I tried to stay hydrated and finally emailed my primary care physician inquiring about getting some Tamiflu. Could a day pass any more slowly than this one, I wondered?