Swine’d

By on November 5, 2009

Oink, Oink.

This past week, I was diagnosed with Swine Flu. It was one of those “I never thought it would happen to me” situations, but it did happen, and it hit me like a truck. I present to you, ladies and gentlemen, “my time with swine.”

Monday, 11:30 p.m. – I feel slightly more tired than normal, and decide I should head off to bed. I don’t think anything of it. I just figure that I had a long weekend and I needed to catch up on my sleep.

Tuesday, 12:30 a.m. – I wake up with severe chills and aches. I look at my phone and realize it has been less than an hour since I had fallen asleep. This is not good. I spend the rest of the night waking up every few minutes, thinking I had slept a couple of hours, and shivering uncontrollably.

Tuesday, 8:30 a.m. – I drive to a “minute clinic” near my off-campus house. After waiting for an hour, in a lot of physical pain, my worst fears are confirmed – I have swine flu. The doctor writes a couple of prescriptions, and I’m off to pack my bags and make the two-hour drive home to New Jersey.

Tuesday, 11 a.m.-1 p.m. – In short, this was the worst drive of my life. I speed the whole way, completely disregarding the fact I could easily be pulled over, thus lengthening my agony. “What would the cop do anyway?” ask myself. I’d just tell him I have swine, and I’d drive on my way. And if he gives me a ticket, I have a hilarious story about a cop without any common sense or sympathy.

Tuesday afternoon and evening – I drift in and out of sleep. My fever continues to fluctuate from simply nonexistent all the way up to 103 degrees Fahrenheight.

Wednesday, 10:30 a.m. – After again drifting in and out of sleep for the previous five hours, I am already regretting not having cable in my bedroom. The combination of Kathie Lee Gifford and Hoda Kotb on NBC is insufferable, and I determine they are adding to my sickness. They may, in fact, be worse than “The Swine.” I grab the remote. Rachael Ray is on the next channel. God help me.

Wednesday, 8:30 p.m. – I’ve spent the whole day in bed, unable to do much else. I now feel disgusting after laying in bed this long, and take a shower…only to get back into bed. It feels like my prison.

Thursday, 9:30 a.m. – My mom had to go to Pennsylvania for business, so I am home alone for the day. I finally get out of my room, make myself breakfast, and head up to my attic where I usually spend most of my time. It feels nice to be out of my room and have more than 10 channels to watch. I think I’m feeling much better, but clearly I have not recovered because one minute I’m watching “Maury,” and the next thing I know, I’ve been asleep for three hours.

Thursday, 8:30 p.m. – My fever is starting to go away. I am starting to argue with my mom. Looks like I’m getting close to my usual self.

Friday, 12:30 p.m. – Now that I am starting to feel slightly better, I realize I have a lot of work to do. Now that I start to think about the work, I feel slightly worse.

Friday, 10:00 p.m. – I’ve completed a successful day of movie watching: “Planes, Trains and Automobiles,” “Die Hard” (twice), “Dante’s Peak” and now “Apollo 13.” I feel nearly healthy, minus a slight cough.

By the weekend, I start to feel pretty well. I know that this can be dangerous for young children and the elderly, but for me it just felt like a really bad bout of the flu. A lot of it is the media-being-the-media, trying to start a stir. Don’t get me wrong, the first two days were brutal, but do not fear; after that, it just felt like the regular flu.

Minus the small, pink, curly tail…

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