The Honest Courtesan

I have an exceptionally robust immune system; I very rarely get sick, and even when I do I tend to throw it off in about 24 hours.  So it’s always extremely annoying to me to succumb to anything more serious.  Last week, I went to Seattle for my regular every-three-week visit, and I must’ve picked up a flu bug along with the toys I bought at Wal-mart for my toy drive.  I woke up a week ago today with a mild cough, and on the way home I started feeling achy and chilly.  By the time I was about half an hour from home I realized I was running a fever, and unloading the car really tired me out; I couldn’t eat more than half of my soup, and that night I woke up every 30 or 45 minutes all damned night long.  The next day I was weak as a kitten and felt like complete shit, and my sleep that night was, if anything, even worse than the night before.   From Thursday on I slowly improved each day, and on Saturday I finally managed to get a proper night’s sleep; I felt good enough on Sunday to vacuum and mop, which turned out to have been overdoing it a bit because a mere hour’s light housework made me feel as though I’d been at it all afternoon.  It wasn’t until yesterday that I felt normal again, though I’m not going to push myself too hard this week.  Still, at least it didn’t result in dizziness and nausea, as illness so often does for me; I remained clearheaded enough to write, and the enforced inactivity gave me time to do some pleasure reading for the first time in quite a while.