Well --- I feel like I’ve just returned from battle. My body has been at war for almost 2 weeks now, and I finally am starting to feel like it’s a war I’m going to win. March 21st, the most productive day of my life, was rewarded with the worst sickness I’ve experienced to date. During the course of one day I was able to run 1.5 miles, walk 3 miles, lift weights, work for 4 hours and spring clean my house for 8 hours. At about 7pm I thought to myself “I have been WASTING my life away - every day should be this productive!” By 10pm I had a raging fever and wanted to die.
Thursday through Saturday Dave believed I was sick, but just thought I was a total wimp. While he kindly would run errands for me, he couldn’t help but make the occasional side comment – my personal favorite being “if you can’t keep these flowers alive while you’re sick, how are you going to keep our kids alive when you’re sick? You know you can’t just stop feeding the kids because you don’t feel well – like you did with these flowers.” On Sunday he finally bought a thermometer I think mostly to prove to me that I wasn’t as sick as I was acting. After taking my temperature 4 times and his 2 times to be sure the thing was working – he concluded that while my temperature was 102.5, according to the internet that wasn’t a “high” temperature and didn’t warrant a doctor’s visit. Also, he was pretty sure I had started acting “sicker” now that my temperature had been confirmed.
After a full day of delirious moaning, convulsing, and coughing – I was finally able to rouse some real empathy from Dave; but not enough to take me to the doctor. He was pretty sure a doctor’s visit would just make me feel worse – and I would be better off just staying in bed. Mean while every time I talked to my parents I would get yelled at for not having made it to the doctor yet. Finally by Monday (5 feverish days later) my boss commanded me to go to the doctor, and said she would pay for the cab if I couldn’t find a ride. Dave took me and was SHOCKED when I was diagnosed with pneumonia. I must admit I felt a real victory for about 45 minutes after the diagnosis, until I had told everyone I had pneumonia – and then was just sick with pneumonia, which isn’t nearly as fun as telling people you have pneumonia.
It has been almost 2 weeks since that fateful Wednesday and while the antibiotics have done wonders, I still feel constantly exhausted. I’ll sleep 12 hours, write an email, make a phone call – and then need a 4 hour nap. The worst part is everyone thinks I should be better by now. So, I’m still in a state of trying to convince everyone I really am, STILL, sick! My doctor offered to write me a note to ensure I only worked 4 hours a day for the next FIVE WEEKS. However my boss has been more than empathetic – but I do think I’ll need a note for the other people in my life. For example the person in my ward who when I told “I can’t teach seminary for a while – the doctor said the last thing I should be doing is getting up at 6am” suggested I just go to bed at 6pm. Or my husband who had 2 emails waiting for me my first day back at work in a week and a half. The first said "can you pick up a gift for my co-workers, daughter's birthday?" the second said "attached is my highschool reunion survey - can you fill it out and mail it in by the deadline?" FOR THE LOVE PEOPLE! Am I the boy who cried wolf? Why will no one believe that I’m sick!