Flu diary: Great Pandemic 2009, part 2
Colorado Springs — So you have probably heard the one about the onions. I even debunked the silly tall tale. But when you have an eighteen-month old with a little nose pouring water like a faucet, you really do not have the option to pass judgment on a silly Internet pass-along (especially when there is some hidden truth in the tale).
Yes, I definitely did slice onions and distribute them on plates throughout the house.
I do not believe, for an instant, that onions attract flu viruses and catch 'em like flies on flypaper. I know that a microscope in 1918-1919 was nowhere near powerful enough to catch sight of an influenza virus, and I also know that at that time all of science fully believed that the flu was caused by bacteria.
What I do realize about onions is that they have a powerful odor. This strong smell is a chemical reaction caused when slicing into the flesh of the onion, releasing sulfurous vapors stockpiled in the tissues of the onion.
Onions have been shown to relieve asthma attacks, which is really quite a boon in the Swine Flu Pandemic. Asthmatics are the number one at-risk group. And lucky me, I have asthma. None of my children have shown any symptoms of asthma, but the condition is passed genetically.
Imagine that onion smell, you know the one. It can bring tears to your eyes. When you smell onions, a little ratchet clicks around in your mind, you think: medicinal.
Onions, as well as garlic, smell healthy. The vibrant health of medicine fills the room. Perhaps the flu virus does not function well in a sulfurous miasma. Influenza does not appreciate humidity (a good hot-steam vaporizer is the best tool for producing instant humidity, or boiling a big pot of water on the kitchen stove for an hour does the job very well), and as influenza is almost 100 percent airborne, this could be the reason onions are so effective in battling influenza.
Coupled with humidity, the sulfurous vapors of an onion seem to be a fairly reliable medicine with very real properties that might provide for fighting the flu on its own chosen field of transfer, the air we breathe.
By Monday night, November 16, 2009, not only was I very ill with influenza, and my five-year-old son Wolfy as well, but now sweet Genevieve, all nineteen months of her, was showing the first signs of infection.
Thank God, seven-year-old Dirklan, sick just the day before, now was symptom free, and my daughter Bronté was showing no symptoms. But Wolfy was conked out for several hours, I was feeling worse and worse, and poor baby Genny was developing the leaky-nose syndrome, the terror of all parents.
My wife Carolena, always stalwart and healthy, was showing not the least trace of the influenza beast. A vegetarian for the past twenty-five years, illness seems horrified to approach her. I have been a vegetarian for ten years, thus my immune system is not quite so robust (plus, the pneumonic lungs, the asthma, all those rhino viruses, poor lungs).
Wolfy woke after a couple of hours of sleep and, invincible tank that he is, he rose to do some playing. I yanked myself out of bed to give him a Gut Bomb — two Ginger capsules and two Oregano oil capsules — and take one myself (for me, the size of a small planet, I take four of each). But Woolly-Bully seemed much refreshed, although his eyes were rimmed in tell-tale crimson. I bundled him up in a blanket on the couch where he could watch a DVD with his siblings.
I woke around 4:00 a.m. on Tuesday, November 17, 2009, and checked on the kids, discovered all of them snoring (which a parent somehow finds soothing), and spent about ten minutes refilling all the vaporizers; made my phone call to work as to why I would not be in and suggested a disinfection of my work phone.
About twelve hours had passed since I fully knew that I was sick, and I was sicker than I thought I would be.
Usually when I'm sick it is the perfect excuse for me to do my artwork or writing, but Tuesday I spent propped up in bed, mostly watching an Outer Limits marathon on ScyFy. I love Outer Limits. And yet, with Swine Flu raging throughout the body, the convoluted plot lines seemed a whole lot more opaque than usual. It was difficult to understand what I was watching. I could not even rise to check my e-mail.
The thing about falling prey to the Swine Flu, you cannot think straight. You might have the best-laid plans and preparations, but as soon as it hits you, you want to curl up into a ball and hope that this too shall just...pass.
If I could think...
...I would have made a plate of sauerkraut.
I would have made sauerkraut on Monday night when I first realized the h1n1 Swine Flu influenza was upon me. But I did not make the miracle dish. I did not make it with onions, and ginger, and oregano, and nutritional yeast, and honey. I did not make sauerkraut. I would have made sauerkraut Tuesday, or at the very least Tuesday night...
...but I could not think. Not properly.
All of Tuesday, Genny and I spent time together. Sometimes I was the sicker, sometimes she was, but her main symptom was the constant flooding of the nose. Mine was weakness, a complete lack of strength. I had enough presence of mind to sip at my natural Ginger Ale (be careful as a lot of sodas do not use real Ginger), my favorite is Blue Sky Jamaican Ginger Ale.
But even better than soda, and almost as effervescent is Reed's Ginger Beer, and Ginger Ale. Oh yeah, that is good stuff. Healthy too. Unfortunately, quite a lot more expensive. But this is medicine we are talking about.
Even with all my herbal remedies, and onions, onions, onions, I was weak. And even on Sambucus, Genny suffered the dread faucet nose, but we made it through the day without anyone slipping into a Cytokine Storm. I do not say that lightly. Even with only half a brain functioning, I kept an eye peeled for anyone of the family falling ill with something more serious than I was experiencing. True, this was bad stuff, compared to any other flu I've ever had, and I do not usually get hit very hard by the flu, but I knew it could get worse, and fast. Carolena kept me updated with constant vigilance checks on all the kids and her own well-being.
Tuesday night, even after several nose flushes throughout the day, my nose grew stuffy and mucus began its surge. I do not suggest anyone should take mucus-relievers during the flu, or do, but only if the nasal clogging gets so bad that a child cannot sleep. But the mucus formation is the body's first line of defense, and using something that dries up that defensive tool is like taking away a policeman's weapon, badge and body armor (when he is under direct attack).
Throughout the day, I felt pretty good. I was even planning to head into work on Wednesday morning. But as the sun set, the flu surged back to regain lost ground. Truth be told, I felt worse Tuesday night than on the previous night. Again, no work. This was going to be tough. I fell into an uneasy sleep, my breathing clotted and heavy.
I woke at 3:30 a.m., mind racing, thoughts speeding out ahead. Some chills, a hot head, and a stuffy nose, and the ever-present weakness, or to perhaps describe it better, the ever absent strength. Unable to return to sleep, I stumbled to the computer and hacked out Flu diary: Great Pandemic 2009, part 1.
The first part of the diary?I knew it left something to be desired. But it was at least a partial capture of the last two days as the flu raged and ranted, completely misbehaving itself. It is the best I could do on short notice, and focusing the mind for about an hour seemed to help. A little bit.
At about 4:30 a.m. I stumbled back to bed and fell back into an uneasy sleep.
