It started this time with an uncomfortable feeling in my upper chest. Not a tickle, but an urge to clear my throat or maybe lungs. A gritty sensation. Oh no.
That was Monday or Tuesday. By Thursday, I knew I was getting actual-sick and left work mid-afternoon.
“Wow, you get sick a lot,” a coworker said.
I considered responding with my most sarcastic THANKS, but instead I bit my tongue, forced a smile and walked back into my office to cough all by myself. Do people think they’re being at all helpful pointing out the obvious? What do they hope to accomplish?
I spent Friday in bed, hoping that with rest, I could stop the cough from worsening.
But the cough stayed the same and my sinuses began doing disgusting things. I learned that double-sneezes were not the limit of my range. Not even close.
I stationed tissue boxes on each side of my bed and perfected my used tissue bank shot.
When I woke up Saturday, I tried to go about my business – coffee, groceries and CVS – until realizing that I felt feverish. Sure enough, when I took my temperature at home, the digital thermometer read 102.1. CRAP.
“Maybe it’s the flu,” Mr. Wonderful texted me.
“BUT I GOT A FLU SHOT,” I responded in the whiniest possible tone.
Off I went to the local outpatient clinic on Sunday morning where I did indeed fail the influenza test. Type A. Tamiflu and codeine cough syrup were prescribed. Damn.
It’s time to go back to work where someone almost surely will greet me with those terrible words. I beg you to tell me a useful response or at least a putdown that won’t get me fired.