The Sunday after last, the 18th (because it matters) i started feeling icky. Like, congested and respiratory icky. Gangsta said i should skip work the next day to go see the doctor. I was like, "psssshaw." You see, he was sick the week before with "just a virus" the doctor said, and that there was nothing they could give him and to "just wait it out."
Naturally, i thought that's all i had as well.
Wrong.
Monday morning, i felt like death. My body hurt and i didn't want to move. Gangsta had the day off, lucky for me, and made me go to the doctor because he too began to feel icky. This wasn't before i argued with him about finding a doctor that makes house calls. And then we went.
When we arrived, we were prompted with masks to wear and were ushered into a conference room. Yeah. A conference room at the back of the doctor's office because these days the words "Flu-like symptoms" are not taken lightly.
We finally saw the doctor, who i will continue to see from now on because the guy i usually see is dull, lame and makes mention that he was an OBGYN for twenty years
every time that i see him.
But i digress.
The doc stuck a q-tip up my nose and came back to say, "Yep. You're our fifth case today."
Me: Case of what?
Doc: Swine flu.
I was astonished. Well, as astonished as i could be for someone who winced every time she was touched. I had a hard time wrapping my mind around this "epidemic" that i really thought i would, realistically, never be affected by. I mean, i was never affected by the bird flu. Why would this be any different?
But it was different. For a few reasons. A) I haven't had the flu in years and B) i have never had the flu
with my significant other*. And C) i don't ever remember the flu taking so much out of me in my entire life. I didn't even know i had a fever until the nurse cheerfully stated "102.2!" after sticking that gun-like thingy in my ear. In case you were wondering, just because your symptoms are spouted out in a delightful manner, doesn't make them feel any less terrible.
After being prescribed some pretty basic antibiotics, Gangsta and i were snuck out the back door. Yeah, that was a first for me.
At home, we began our week of pain and suffering
together. This is where it gets fun. Gangsta was prescribed a cough medicine that had hydrocodone in it. Guess who was jealous and used his instead? *points to self*
That night my fever broke and Gangsta's got worse. I was through my first inning while he was beginning his. So, i was the first to feel up to making tea. The next afternoon, Gangsta's fever went down and i was exhausted, so he made tea for us and dry toast. And this is how it was for the entire week. Who felt the best? Whose turn was it to get up? Where are the Icy Hot patches? I need one. He needs one. I need a flexerell. He needs Tylenol. Back and forth we took care of each other. It made me smile to think that this is what it could be like to be 80 together and i couldn't have asked for a better teammate in life.
This week, things are getting back to normal and we were able to give our apartment a face lift. As i was picking up and tidying after the hurricane of kleenexes and medicinal paraphernalia, i came across one of the masks that we wore home. I found myself unable to just grab it by the elastic and toss it in the trash. No, i grabbed a paper towel and placed it over the mask and grabbed it like a turd. Then i used two Clorox wipes on the table where it had been festering.
The bright side? I should be immune to this strain now.
*I'm just not used to the word fiancé yet. It's just so traditional. And i doubt i'll ever use the word husband because it feels so awkward and unlike me. I'll probably continue to say "partner" or "my man."