So Much For Christmas Break

I was pretty excited to take my first Christmas break since high school.

No, really.  I know that in real, grown-up life, there is no such thing as Christmas break.  You might get a couple of days off at Christmas, but then it was back to work.  I knew this, and I accepted it.

But last February, my job duties changed and I was to teach only.  No problem, teaching's what I do.  It took a long time, though, for me to figure out that if I was teaching only, that meant I could take the same two weeks off of work that our students had!  Even better, Jay has the same two weeks off of work.

I had big plans, even scheduled an Open House for after Christmas.

Thursday was the last day of work for both of us.

Friday, about 0300, Jay woke up with a dry cough.  He didn't feel bad, just had a cough, no biggie.

We get up Friday, start to do some run-around, hit the laundromat.  At 1500, the fever started.  By the time we were done with laundry, he had "flu eye".  Nebalee teases me about "flu eye", but after surviving the great influenza outbreak of 2000 (or was it 2001?), in which we diagnosed 30 cases a day in the office for weeks, I can spot influenza at thirty paces.

We stopped at the grocery store so I could buy the makin's for chicken noodle soup, some Advil cold and sinus, and gatorade.

I made dinner and he was in bed by 1900.

This morning, I asked if he wanted to go to the doctor and initially his answer was no.  He took a shower to see if he would feel any better and came out of the shower agreeing to go to the doctor.  Our doctor's office is closed on Saturday, so off to Urgent Care we went.  Along with approximately 5,398 other people with "flu-like symptoms".

We checked in at 1030, finally got seen about 1230 and were told what I already knew: Jay has Influenza A (okay, I didn't know if it was A or B, but it really doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things).

Poor guy sounds like a dying monster, "groan-inhale-groan-pant-pant-groan-coughcoughcough-ohgodthathurts-groan".  Sometimes he mixes it up; "moan-pant-pant-groan-coughcoughcough-sonuvabitch-coughcough-killmeplease-moan".

Almost $75 later, we have Tamiflu and guaifenisen/codeine cough syrup.

When I asked for a 'scrip for me, I was denied, which pisses me off.  Total breach of best practices, there Urgent Care.  Oh, how I wish my doctor's office was open.  She believes in treating the caregiver, especially considering how contagious influenza is.  So now it's a waiting game: is GunDiva going to develop influenza, or is her immune system still rock solid from years of working in doctor's offices?

Maybe next year, I'll just plan on working through Christmas break.

The Man Cold

I don't get sick often, which is probably why I am such a baby about it.  The last time I was sick was October 16, 2009.  How do I know that?  Because I blogged about it.  That's how rarely I get sick enough to turn into such a man baby about it.



I try not to be a baby, I really do, but I hate being a mouth-breather due to the tons of concrete snot inside my face.  I hate the fact that I can hear the fluid move in my eustacian tubes.  I hate not being able to get comfortable.  See the pattern here?  Being sick makes me unhappy and when Momma ain't happy, ain't nobody happy.

RockCrawlinChef has been sick for two weeks.  He's been coughing up multi-colored lung cookies all night long.  Has he whined about it?  Nope.  He's a much better woman about being sick than I am.  Just went to the store one day and bought himself a bottle of NyQuil  dosed himself up and went to bed. 

How many of you started singing Denis Leary's NyQuil song when you read what RCC took?  It's thanks to Mr. Leary that I can properly spell it, "Big N, little y, giant fucking Q", and then I have to mentally sing the whole NyQuil song in my head.  Thanks a lot, Mr. Leary, I'm going to be singing that stupid song all day long.

I'm going to curl up with my Advil Cold & Sinus and snot rags and take a nap.  Mostly because it's too much effort to get out of bed and go to the couch...

Oh, and it just dawned on me that this is my 400th post!  That's like a milestone or something.  My mucus-infested synapses aren't firing well enough to think of something to do to celebrate this post.  Hmm...

Didn't Quite Dodge The Bullet

Since before Christmas break, everyone around me has been sick.  The other Associate Dean started it all off with a nasty upper respiratory infection that he passed on to a couple of the instructors.  Christmas break came and I escaped the college for a week.  When I returned a whole new virus was circulating; again wiping out instructors right and left.  Then our Dean got sick.  Through it all, my bulletproof immune system stayed strong.  Woo Hoo!

Then RCC got sick.  Some nasty URI again.  I *thought* I'd dodged that bullet, too.  It's been going on three weeks since he got sick.  With a viral incubation period of 10 days to two weeks, I was sure I'd avoided his lung-cookie producing URI.

Monday, I woke up with half a ton of concrete in my left sinuses.  Aw, crap.  I took some of my favorite drug on the planet, Advil Cold & Sinus and felt better.  I still felt a little under the weather, with achy joints and a face full of cement snot.  I went to work out with my trainer, but just went through the motions.  My heart was definitely not into working out.

Woke up Tuesday morning feeling a whole lot better.  Worked out again - one hour on the treadmill.  Still felt mostly good.

Woke up Wednesday feeling human.  Worked out again - half hour on the elliptical machine.  Was bored shitless.  Even with Eloise, I just couldn't stay on the dang thing.

Thursday - a full ton of concrete in both sides of my face.  Great.  Worked my usual fifteen hours, hopped up on cold medicine.  Some Advil variation of their Cold & Sinus.  I wanted my favorite, but I couldn't buy it off the shelf - it has to be purchased via the pharmacy, which isn't open before I have to be at work.

Today.  Well, I can now say that I have not dodged that sickness bullet.

But I gave it a hell of a run for its money.  I've been knee-deep in sick people, both at work and at home since the beginning of December.

I'm even going to blame the snot packing my head for the one-pound weight gain I had this week.  There's nothing quite like attempting to work your ass off only to find that you've *gained* a pound.  Bah!

My Sister...

...Cracks me right. the. hell. up.

Here's her FB status for today:

Nebalee: "You know it's bad when you're sick and you wake from a 3 hr nap feeling WORSE than when you went down. Shoot...I just gave that virus 3hrs of uninterrupted multiplying time. I must have the Motaba virus! If my eyeballs start bleeding in an hour, evacuate the town."

GunDiva: "Woohoo for Motaba! If it was Motaba-Zaire, you'd be dead already :)"

Nebalee:  "I'm hoping someone finds the monkey for the anti-serum."

GunDiva:  "Me too! I don't want to have to see you bleeding out of all of your orifices or have to call in the big bombers to set your house on fire."

There were random comments in there from her friends about "hope you feel better" and all that crap.  Yup, that's our family.  Just crackin' each other up, while the rest of the world can't figure us out.

Overnight Gender Re-assignment

My wonderful, amazing Ed Assistant, Amanda, always tells me, "you're such a boy," when I talk about going off-roading with Jay or going shooting or going to the XRRA championship.  Guess she's more right than she thought.

This virus (I'm refusing to call it the flu, my rapid test came back negative) has absolutely turned me into the stereotypical sick male.  I'm whiny, demanding, and an all-around pain in the butt.  God help the child that does not ask how high to jump when I suddenly need something.  After all, I gave them life.  The least they can do is bring me Sprite, snot rags, and munchies while I'm lying on my death bed.  Right?  At least I'm not asking them to massage my feet or give me bed baths.  All I want is to be left alone (until I summon them), peace and quiet (like that will ever happen), and a little sympathy.  Is that too much to ask?

I'm pretty sure that they're organizing a coup and I'll be left to die by my lonesome, pooled in my own fever sweat, begging until my voice gives out for snot rags or Sprite.

Germs, germs, go away.

No, really, I mean it.  I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired.  Just two weeks ago I had the head cold from hell while my daughter was down and out with the flu.  I took a sick day for the first time in a very, very long time, rallied and got my sorry butt back to work.  I truly believed that the household was out of danger from the flu, despite the fact that AshLynne's boyfriend had tested positive for it and had spend a week home from school and work.  My reason for being so optimistic is that it's been TWO weeks, the incubation period should have been over.  Hmm...not so much.

Yesterday, I felt great.  Went up to Mom's to see Estes for one last time before she came down to winter pasture today.  The weather was crappy up on the hill, even though it was absolutely beautiful down here in town, so we didn't go out on a ride.  I attempted to spend some time with Queen Estes, but she wasn't feeling it.  She'd let me pet and scratch, but the minute I went in for a cuddle or a kiss, she'd turn away.  I'm now thinking that she could smell that I was getting sick.  Horses identify their humans by smell, and if I didn't smell right of course she wouldn't want me in her personal space.  At least that's what I'm telling myself to keep from getting hurt feelings that my baby girl didn't want any cuddles yesterday.  Today, my parents loaded her up and took her to winter pasture in Lyons.  From now until March/April, I'll get limited visits with her, as she'll be turned out with the rest of her old herd (and my parents' horses, which will move down next week) to run loose for the winter.

I'd like to think she was saying "sorry, Mommy."  but I somehow doubt it.

Last night, I had a little cough and a stubborn lung cookie that just wouldn't go away, but I still had no idea I was getting sick.  This morning, I woke up with a little headache and took some Tylenol before I went to work.  Still didn't think I was sick, it was just a freaking headache.  As I was teaching my phlebotomy class (which I LOVE), I kept getting hot, then cold, but I was moving between two rooms and the students had the same complaint.  One room was hot; the other was cold.  Still had no idea I was getting sick. 

My headache got worse, but, you know, it was time for the Tylenol to wear off.  No big deal, just take some more.  My lower back started aching, but, again, I blamed it on something else...the new "grown up" shoes I'd worn to work on Monday.  In all honesty, I never wear heels, and my new shoes have some good heels on them and my back's been hurting ever since.  But, probably, three days after the fact, my back pain should have been gone.

I made it through class, got back to my desk and started coughing until I gagged.  Then the hot flash hit.  Oh shit.  It hit me...this was no bueno at all.  I snuck back into the lab, grabbed the thermometer and zapped myself with it.  101.6  on Tylenol.  Shit, shit, shit.  Can't be right.  Nope.  I'm impervious to microorganisms.  I can't be sick.  I slunk back into the office and handed the thermometer to the Education Assistant.  She zapped me in the other ear.  101.7.  Shit.  Guess that explains the headache and muscle aches.

You know, for working in medicine as long as I have, I'm apparently pretty crappy at recognizing the symptoms of illness in myself.  I'm impervious to microorganisms, I'm impervious to microorganisms...my magic anti-sick mantra didn't help at all today.

They couldn't get me out of the office fast enough and they are probably fumigating the whole thing as I type this.  And they're probably saying that they knew I was sick all along...