Call me a modern skeptic but I've always believed the flu shots to be a whole bunch of bologna.
About a month ago I caught the first strand of flu. I felt a little ran down but bounced back rather quickly. I choked it up to it could have happened to anyone. Flu shot or not.
I finally get to feeling better. The forecast says sunshine and high in the mid 60s. I've got a whole weekend planned of hiking and being in the great outdoors, I couldn't be more excited.
Monday rolls around and I am accumulating a slight cough. Nothing a little DayQuil can't fix. Tuesday, it's worse. Swabbed for flu again, its negative. Thank the good lord (I am to excited about my upcoming weekend). Two shots and some antibiotics later, I'm thinking I'll be good as new by the morning.
Not. I wake up worse than I have felt all week Wednesday. I'm now running a fever and feel like a truck has ran me over again and again. I push through the day and tell myself to give the antibiotics some time to work.
Not to mention, this whole week things have been tense with my best friend. We never fight. I mean never. Which in response to worrying about her and our friendship I have became a "sick bitch". Ya know, the girl who is mad and rude to everyone and everything because she's sick. That's been me. Guilty as charged. I've been a complete bitch. I'm just thankful that I have a friend who is understanding, and knows that it's how I am when I'm sick.
Anyways, Thursday morning. 103.0 fever. This is it, this is what death feels like. I have come to grips that this is how it's going to end. Coughing my lungs up, fever, and delusional. However, being the trooper I am, I muddle into work after taking some Tylenol and chugging a Gatorade, telling myself, this is not the flu. I've tested negative. I work all day and I am drained. Completely exhausted. Finally, 6 o'clock rolls around, the girls I work with start to hound me, swab yourself again. I tell them, guys I've tested negative. Plus, who gets the flu twice in one season?
I appease my coworkers and swab myself. 10 minutes later, I HAVE THE FREAKING FLU. Type B that is. The opposite strand I had the first time. You have got to be kidding me. I am so mad at this point. How? I have go to be the most unlucky person on earth. The dr. I work for tells me to let it run its course. Tylenol, Robitussin, fluids, and rest is the best thing for me.
I go home and I am immediately quarantined to my room. The whole house is off limits. Which i understand, I wouldn't want my worst enemy to feel like this.
Friday. It's hit hard. I'm in my bed all day. Barely able to eat anything. High fever, weak, and cold. Oh so cold. I rotate Tylenol and Motrin. Saying to myself , this is not the end.
I know, I'm dramatic.
Saturday. Today I feel a tad bit better. Low grade fever, I've eaten more. I even got out and paid my car payment (simply because I had to0).
So here I am. Saturday night, telling you guys about the hell of a week I've been through.
My chest hurts, my ribs hurt, I cough like I've been smoking for 60 years, but I'm alive.
The hangover is playing in the background, my dog is curled up against me, and a Coca Cola is finally starting to taste halfway good.
Even though I didn't have the weekend I wanted, filled with the fresh air and friends, I really don't have anything to complain about.
Once this cough is gone I'll be good as new.
I just might get my flu shot next year....
