Uncle

OK, having dragged myself to work today till early aft, and then having trekked home to sleep for 3 hours because I did not have the energy to be at work for half the day, I concede.

I'm staying at home until this virus doesn't leave me feeling half-dead. Till I can cough without losing the ability to inhale temporarily. Till I can breathe without feeling like there's a cat sitting on my chest. Till I'm not 15 different kinds of exhausted.

For those not following along, I've had asthmatic bronchitis for a couple of weeks. I've done everything one is supposed to do under the circumstances: antibiotics (didn't help but we tried it anyway - also good for keeping secondary infections away), a puffer, sleeping long hours, (miserably) staring into space, avoiding movement, acupuncture, massage, my regular daily regime of a zillion vitamins. Yet, somehow, I still ended up in the ER on Sunday (Happy Thanksgiving indeed), panicked by my continuing symptoms, wherein the doctors did an xray and noted a probable incidence of viral pneumonia.

The good news is that the xray showed a very minor case - just a shadow, really - and my body appears to be fighting it off (which is why I have no fever). The bad news is that I got this fucking thing in the first place. How?!?!?!? I barely take public transportation. I wash my hands constantly. I won't share food with my kid, specifically because I'm scared of child germs. (Note: Scott and M are fine. No one else at work has this bug.) I sleep many hours and eat healthy food.

The other bad news is that it's still in my system in any form. And the definitive bad news is that it's a fucking virus so it's not like they can wave a magic pill and make it go away.

People, I'm scared. I sense I went to work because I thought, if I pretended I was well, I would be well. I also went because I feel responsible to my coworkers and manager to actually turn up for work and perform the tasks I'm paid for. I don't think they want me around, though. In truth, they were very nice about it.

While today, I was explaining to a work friend that I wasn't a danger to her as she isn't an infant, an infirm elderly person or immuno-compromised, it finally occurred to me that I'm the immuno-compromised one, as evidenced by 5 weeks of sickness culminating in this shitty situation.

Experience has shown me that I can do everything in my power to promote and maintain health and still get sick. Why the fuck am I leaving the only place that's more or less a known commodity, where I can actually rest?

I had a number of posts in the queue last week, which is how I continued to seem so lively. This week I'm on post-as-I-go, so I don't know how often you'll hear from me. I really hope you hear from me a lot and that I'll have increasingly passionate opinions, underpinned by the return of healthful vigor.

I realize that, in the scheme of things, people get respiratory viruses all the time and recover - even if those viruses linger. I also realize that I am a particularly anxious sick person (anxious at the best of times, you know) and I have to share my feelings of anxiety or they'll simply be another instrument of suffocation. Even though the overwhelming likelihood is that I'm going to get better soon, I would welcome any continuing positive health vibes you've got to spare. (And I thank you for all of the ones you've been sending.)

As you can imagine, there's been little crafting happening here, as crafting takes a boat-load of energy. I have begun knitting the Inaugural Sweater but it's going very slowly. Fortunately, I did all of the sizing and mathy stuff a couple of weeks ago... So please stay tuned for info about it.