Dreadful hardly covers it. This flu I've had since Sunday feels a lot like malaria (and I know from malaria), but without the "could be fatal" aspect of that disease.
On Sunday, I felt like a zombie.
On Monday I felt like a zombie having a really bad day.
On Tuesday I felt like a zombie that had been dismembered, incinerated and then re-animated by a voodoo practitioner with a particularly sick sense of humour.
That is to say, Tuesday was kind of a low point. I'd run out of medications, so there wasn't even an aspirin in the house. And the concept of me making myself a cup of tea seemed about as unlikely and intimidating as me ascending Mt Everest wearing a bikini.
Wasn't gonna happen.
But by some miracle, a friend happened to call up. "Wow! You sound awful! Do you need anything? I'll be passing by this afternoon."
And so it was that I got some meds again, including some crazy powder from England that apparently restores zombies to a more attractively life-like state.
No, it wasn't cocaine. I don't think....
It was called "Lemsip" on the package, anyway.
So, with the help of the magic powder, I was able to venture out of my home yesterday afternoon. Of course, I still had a racking cough, runny nose, hollow eyes and a general appearance and comportment that led perfect strangers to come up to me and ask things like: "Are you all right?" "Do you need help?" "Are you sure it's not TB?" and even ""Ummm...Are you sick?", the latter delivered in an appropriately dryly humorous tone that made me laugh/cough until I turned purple.
But if I had tried to venture out the day before, people probably would have waved torches in my face and shouted "Back, foul undead fiend!", so I counted myself lucky.
Today I slept until nearly noon and anticipate heading straight back to bed as soon as this is posted.
Stay well, my friends.