And then it all collapsed. It started at 3:30 Thursday morning when I awoke to find my throat in flames. Not a pleasant awakening. Yet, I called it.
By the time I got up to go to work I was thinking, "Hmm. I don't feel so great." By the time I drove across the bridge, I was thinking, "I think I'm dying." At the very least, I shouldn't have been driving. Nothing made sense. When I picked up Andrew, I asked him to drive. I thought it would be safer.
What followed were 6 barely productive hours of torture. I couldn't do anything lateral, so I spent time overhauling a contact database. Changing provinces from "New Brunswick" to "NB", and other life-or-death changes.
At 2, Amanda D. and I had a meeting up on the Fort. How painful. Not only did we walk there (ill-advised due to the fact that everything in me hurt), but the entire meeting consisted of walking because it was a Fam (familiarization) Tour.
We got back to the office at 3. I promptly packed up and left. I had to get the bus to Andrew's to pick up my car and it was the longest bus ride ever. And remember, I spent 4 days straight in a car. I was hurting, my Tylenol was wearing off, the bus was crowded, there was traffic, and I swear we stopped at 99% of the stops. All so I could save $14 in parking at the parkade. In that case, it just wasn't worth it.
By the time I got home, I was almost in tears. Normally, I whine a lot when I'm sick, but I'm usually sick so often that I can generally handle it. In this case, I was a wreck. Except for a sniffly cold at New Year's and a sinus infection that was such a blip, I don't even remember when it was, I haven't been sick all winter. That's near-miraculous for me. So fever, aches and pains, fidgetiness, sore throat, and cough were pretty much doing me in. I was unable to function without my Tylenol. I became a slobbering, whining, moaning, wimpering half-wit.
Since then, I've basically been asleep. The aches are gone, except that my back hurts. Now it's mostly my sore throat. On Foo's suggestion, I took some Advil. Fingers crossed.
I don't know if this is a self-fulfilling prophecy, or a cosmic cruel joke. Almost 2 weeks ago I said to Foo, "I'm going to be sick for St. Patrick's Day!" because I had the sniffles. Then I said, "And if I'm not sick then, I'll be sick for Easter. I haven't been sick all winter, and it's a long weekend. Just wait."