|An artist's impression of the battle going on inside my body|
What's wrong? I have no idea, my general plan of action when I get sick is to lie in bed and let others tend to me. I've had the double whammy of having my wife be out of the country and my son get sick as well. All I got to help me is my stupid dog, whom I love, but totally sucks at nursing.
I ask her to bring me some medicine and she starts rummaging through the trash. I tell her that I don't need the used medicine and to get me the stuff from the medicine cabinet. She stares at me like I'm the dumb one. Sigh. She just doesn't get it.
It's funny to me that I recall bragging to someone at work just last week that I can't remember the last time I got really sick. I'm just too damn healthy for an infection, those little buggers pass me by for easier prey. That's what I get for talking smack to the microscopic biota nearby. I think they took it personal.
So I'm in bed, where I've been for the past few days. I'll try to get myself picked back up and go to work later this afternoon if I can, but I don't know how much I could expect to accomplish at the office the way I am right now. My ability to ramble incoherently seems to work independently of my overall heath, so co-workers might think I'm normal. But I can tell. And of course my superiors would be able to tell too. I'm pretty sure whimpering then falling asleep on my desk would raise some red flags.
The horrid thing for me is what could be next the next stage of this illness. I've petered around Google and Wikipedia this morning checking out my symptoms and all I can see for sure is that I may have something... frightening
That said, It may just be that I have read way too many zombie stories in the past few weeks. I think I'm nervous about what I'll be when I wake up. If my next blog is all about how good and tasty brains are then look out. I've already been changed.