Flu diary: Great Pandemic 2009, part 7
Colorado Springs — Sunday afternoon, November 22, 2009 and I make a mistake. It is a very bright, very warm day, and Dirklan wants to go outside and play. There is only a little snow left from last week, and the temperature is in the 60s, so I say: "Sure, but dress warm, and don't run around too much."
Thinking just a little deeper, I would tell him, no, stay inside. Because Dirklan and the other children are all still sick. Sure, he has shown the least illness, the most mild symptoms of anyone, except Carolena, but his skin shows his illness, his eyes show his illness. Just as I deceived myself yesterday with all the flood of life into my body, now I do it again.
But then again, sunlight is perhaps the best tool to employ against the flu. If only we had a bright sunroom with lots of windows facing south, where we could sit and collect the rays.
Dirklan is overjoyed to rush outside and run and play. Of course he is going to run and play, on the grass, in the sunlight and fresh air. And while the sunlight and fresh air are good, it is best to lay off the exercise when infected with h1n1 Swine Flu. As much as possible, stay in bed. Rest.
I certainly do not feel anywhere near my high of yesterday. The well filled up, I guzzled it down, was energized, but unfortunately no more life-giving precipitation has risen in the well. I did what we are always told not to do: Don't spend it all in one place!
Wise man that I am, I spent it all buying bagels. It does call to mind Jack and his cow-for-beans trade.
Genevieve and I cough, and I lie down, and I lie down, and I lie down. Genny runs amuck all over the house, laughing and entertaining herself. I, for most of the day, lie down, all of my strength in some other land. I am able to rise and work on the Flu Diary, one of the parts anyway, but all in all I am just too exhausted.
Carolena is healthy, although she has been feeling some worrisome signs, not quite a soreness in her throat, but a tenderness. Her nose has dripped ominously, but she has plenty of allergies throughout the year, so in this case she does not know if it is allergy or influenza, softly stealing on tiny cloven hooves.
Throughout this week she has been drinking the Flu Tonic that I cooked up several weeks ago. Gathering together fresh and organic garlic cloves, several types of onion, fresh ginger root, fresh oregano leaves still on the branch and slow-cooking them all day in a crockpot, then expressing as much juice and oil as possible into a gallon-size apple juice jug. A few cups pourted into a pan and heated up on the stove, sitting there at the lowest temperature setting for when required, added to green tea, it is potent stuff.
Ironically, the flu tonic is a tad too strong for me to drink while sick. I have only managed a cup or two throughout my whole illness. But every time Carolena has felt any twinge of flu she has quaffed a cup of tonic. She swears by the stuff.
We add a little flu tonic to Genny's bottle, about one ounce of tonic to seven ounces of soy milk, and Genny does not seem to mind. When we discussed adding it to the other children's milk, Dirklan emerged from around a corner and announced: "I heard that."
Finally, I crack open the expensive bottle of Oreganol (I think I paid $65 for one ounce) and take four drips beneath my tongue. Now this is awesome stuff. For a few seconds I feel dangerously close to launching into a few of those Matrix high-flying special effects I was tempted to perform just yesterday, but it passes quickly, and then I taste the Oreganol. Ooh, good stuff, but extremely nasty stuff as well.
I dose everyone, with the kids only getting one drip. Shrieking, they fly for their water bottles, all the while vowing they will never be tricked into a drip of Oreganol, ever again.
Late Sunday night Dirklan suddenly is the sickest one in the family, with a temperature over 100 degrees, nausea, headache, and chills. It seems Dirky now has a full measure of what Bronté and Wolfy were suffering on Friday. Poor Dirky seems sicker now than he did on that first day last Sunday.
It is kind of like a nightmare rollercoaster ride, clacketing up to the top of the abnormal hill, almost feeling completely well, then that frightening rocket-plunge into the abyss of despair. More than a week after the first symptoms, and here we go again.
As the house settles down to sleep, all the kids have relapsed, but Wolfy and Bronté seem very mild at this point, while Dirky is fully sick for the first time. I have read so many stories of small children falling asleep with this flu and not waking up. Throughout the night I rise to check on the kids. Only Dirky has a fever, and twice in the night when I check the fever has passed, and twice it has returned.
I am heading off to work in the morning. And on this night, Sunday night, a week after the initial symptoms showed in our house, I really do not feel any better than I did Friday night, or Thursday night. I am still sick, is the thing.
The government, and the company that pays me, has posted that it is safe to return to work 24 hours after the last of the initial fever. Seems a little odd advice, since that fever pops up and down like a weasel throughout the whole week of illness.
But I am hoping that I feel better tomorrow. Perhaps I do not require the jubilation I experienced on Saturday, but just bare-bones normal would be nice.
Monday, November 23, 2009
I wake at 6:00 a.m., which is an hour over the time I usually wake up. Great, so my first day back to work and I will be somewhat late. Along with my usual morning rituals, I top off the vaporizers, dose myself with vitamins and spices, and do a nose flush. How wonderful to see blood gush from my nose and mouth again. That is just lovely. Plus the turtles, do not forget the turtles.
Hopefully no one gets too close to me today, with my onion breath and garlic leaking from every pore, and all the other spicy enrichments, not to mention the Oreganol which can produce a "just-sharpened pencil" smell that is not exactly pleasant.
I check on everyone before I depart. Everyone is sleeping deeply. No fevers.
As I am struck by the Coloardo chilly morning air, colder than freezing, the first of the real coughs bursts from my chest. I see Mr. Coughy will be keeping me company today at work. I have not seen you since August, Mr. Coughy, I hope you have been well.
Mr. Coughy does not reply. He just smiles and pats me on the chest.
