Not a little “flu” bug. No no. The real, bonafide Influenzavirus, type A.
So that’s why I feel so horrid. The doctor actually laughed a bit, saying the diagnosis was pretty easy since there weren’t many respiratory problems that could make a person look as bad as I do. Gee, thanks. He said he’d had the real flu once in his life: 28 years ago. He said he hopes to never feel that miserable again.
So. Bedrest and medication for days. Tamiflu to attack the virus itself; Vicodin (the stuff House is addicted to) for the rather excruciating pain. Seriously, I think I’ve got a high threshold for physical pain, but it feels like I’m being bludgeoned with a hammer every time I cough.
It’s insult to injury that I have forced downtime yet can’t hardly keep a coherent thought together — making writing near to impossible. This post has taken a long time to write.
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