This past week has moved in a blur. I blinked my eyes this morning and said, Is it really Sunday? REALLY?
Time is drawing close on the end of summer as we know it and last week, we had packed in all sorts of summer fun, it being my second to last week of vacation. Except that sometimes life doesn't care about your plans and Sunday night, Tommy and I both started running fevers. I hoped and prayed that it'd be a swift thing, because we had plans to go to the zoo the next day. It was swift. For Tommy. I woke up the next morning fever-free, but aching from the top of my head to my toes. I was so sore that it hurt to roll over in bed. I hoped that it was just my body protesting after my Sunday run, but it wasn't. I got achier as the day went on, then my fever came back, then I got nauseous... and well, it was all over. I spent most of Monday night curled in the fetal position on the bathroom floor. It was really fun. Except, you know, not. Monday rolled into Tuesday rolled into Wednesday and I was still horribly sick with no end in sight. I couldn't even stomach a sip of tepid water or a nibble of Saltine. Nothing would stay down, so by Wednesday afternoon, I stumbled downstairs and told Shane I needed to go to urgent care. My kids were all, Mommy! We thought you moved out!
The process of dressing myself was excruciating. Walking outside into the bright sun? Even moreso. Riding in the car? BRUTAL. I rode with a towel and blanket over my face because my eyes were so swollen and sore from the dehydration that I felt like a vampire. But not the sexy, sparkly kind. At urgent care, I was that person that everyone in the waiting room subtly shifts away from because they wonder if you have the ebola virus.
I did not, thankfully, although the doctor really thought I had food poisoning. We hadn't eaten out anywhere and we've pretty much all eaten the same things, so he diagnosed it as a really bad case of the stomach flu and sent me on my way with an Rx for Zofran. This is where I have to state my love for urgent care. They sent the prescription in for us so we were able to just swing through the CVS drive-thru. This was a blessing, because I still felt like some sort of horrible vampire-mole hybrid in the sunlight. Also a blessing because I have a tiny car and Tommy thought it was funny to kick the back of my seat, so every minute was like an ice pick in my brain (did I mention the brutal jackhammer like headache that accompanied the stomach flu?).
One Zofran later and I started to feel vaguely better stomachwise, but without the stomach pain, I realized just how badly the rest of my body hurt. Still, it was an improvement. The next day, I was able to start drinking clear liquids, but I was still really weak and spent the entire day in bed. Friday, I got out of bed and I graduated to chicken broth and the first few sips of broth tasted like heaven, but after having broth for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, I was pretty much starving. I can't tell you how good real food tasted!
Today, I feel almost 100%. I still have a few bouts of dizziness every now and then, mainly when I stand up too fast, but it's safe to say I'm finally on the mend. I'm a little sad about that week that I lost, especially at the end of summer. If it was in June, I'd still be sad, but I'd have so much summer left. Now, I just feel frustrated that I go back to work so soon. I'm not ready, not one little bit. I selfishly want more summer, more time to do the things we didn't do. All I can hope is that after this lost week of summer, the universe owes me something really, really awesome this fall.