My last week:
Thursday -- Dizzy. Doctor says it's barotrauma. Gives me Flonase. But still find it hard to breathe, have some muscle aches. Go to sleep thinking I have anthrax.
Friday -- Exhausted. Doctor says it's bronchitis. Gives me Zithromax. Can barely walk to car from office when we leave early. Get home and can barely stand up. Neck hurts. Go to sleep thinking I have meningitis.
Saturday -- Wake up. Try to get out of bed. Barely can. Eventually find myself parked in front of TV. Watch Gameplan. Watch end of Auburn-Georgia game, laugh at hysterical ending. Get really short of breath, think I'm about to pass out. Lie on bed thinking that dying may not be such a bad thing. Catch breath. Start Lord Of The Rings, thinking I should stop thinking about death and more about reading all 1000 pages. Go to sleep thinking I'm going to suffocate in the night.
Sunday -- Wake up. Try to get out of bed. Sorta can. Sorta move around. World not swirling so bad. Still can't move around without immense labor. Somehow get to church in the evening. Attempt to sing, give up after one verse of first hymn. Headache, can't stand up. Zithromax side effects kick in, led by a big-ass gas bubble right about where my appendix is. Go to sleep thinking I have appendicitis.
Monday -- Wake up. Veteran's Day, so no work. WOOHOO!!!1! Try to get out of bed. Kinda can. Read more Lord Of The Rings. Now about 1/4 the way through, mostly because I'm skipping over the poems. Eat soup. Side effects getting worse; I look like a bloated dead whale. Cough. Cough. Cough. Now halfway through my bottle of Robitussin. Starting to like the taste. Toilet for the 30th time today. Go to bed thinking I have cholera.
Tuesday -- Wake up. Stay home from work. SICK DAYS R0X0R!!!1! Try to get out of bed. Mostly can. Play Civilization 3. Lose. Bad. Hate the new "limited resources" crap. Have no nuclear material, but can build nuclear subs. And I can't build, say, nuclear-powered tanks, which would be really cool. Anyway, this gets me run down. Call the doctor, begging them to tell me not to take the last Zithromax. They say I have to. Sigh. Read more Ring trilogy. Starting to get bored. I mean, they're running around getting chased and singing most of the time. First 200 pages of the book, in three sentences: "Frodo gets a ring. Frodo spends most of his time sitting around wanking when he should be running for his damn life. Frodo finally starts running for his damn life only after choosing some other hobbits to circle-jerk with and pretty much mucks up everything along the way because he's a frikkin idiot." At this moment, I'm rooting for the evil guy. Gas bubble continues to be a problem. Go to bed thinking I have appendicitis.
Wednesday -- Wake up. Try to get out of bed. Tentatively can. Decide to go to work. Spend first three hours coughing up crap and looking like I just flew in from Kandahar (I haven't shaved since all this started). Afternoon I feel better, only after some Sudafed, Advil, and cough syrup. Bubble still not popping. Arrgh. Go to reception with wife at Seattle Art Museum. Feel somewhat better. For the first time in a week, don't think I'm going to die.
Thursday -- Wake up. Try to get out of bed. Can't. Ache. Hate life. Knew that I must be well.
