The worst of my sickness appears to be over.
The recovery may be what kills me. At the moment, I have cramps in my shoulders like I’ve been backpacking in the Himalayas with too much stuff. The cramps in my gut are less intense than during the vomiting episode (from noon until 7:30pm, thank you for asking) yesterday. And the headache is, at least, catholic in the sense that it is universal, hippocampus to cerebellum, medulla to cerebrum, and every gland and nerve fiber in between.
My day has consisted of half-hour bursts of energy, followed by 45 minutes to an hour and a half of lying prone, before my body got antsy and hot under the covers and had to get up and do stuff.
So, foolishly, I dragged myself to dinner. “Look,” I said. “I’m not dead.” Great, was the response. Drive these kids to temple. Ooops, I think, a couple of hours later, that wasn’t a half-hour.
So tomorrow, guess what my duty is? That’s right, I’m one of the chaperones for our weekend trip skiing. A day in the lodge slaving away over a laptop, writing comments and shivering. Woohoo.