The Flu Fighters

Well January started off with a bang in terms of renewed hope, energy and optimism for the upcoming year. Then out of the blue, the cold/flu took everyone in my path down including me. Yeah, the flu shot, supplements, lots of sleep and a healthy diet didn't help. Even my one workout of the month didn't prevent me from getting sick. I was feeling unusually upbeat for the month of January, that even the dull, grey skies  and the frigid temperatures couldn't hinder my spirit. Well that was short lived...

A couple of weeks ago after feeling great at the end of the week, I woke up one Saturday morning with a tickle in my throat, I did everything I could to stop this from becoming more than a tickle, but deep down I knew it was going to take me down eventually. Later that evening I had dinner plans to celebrate my best gal pal Lily's birthday and had been looking forward to it all week. We both dressed up and had a fantastic dinner at Sambuca (my other favourite restaurant). For a few hours, I was able to trick my brain into believing that the tickle in my throat wasn't there.

By Monday I was down, I had all the artillery needed to combat this virus, chicken soup, kleenex, pajamas, my fluffy robe, water, flat ginger ale and Ibuprofen. I was thinking so much for my dynamic January plans. I had to cancel all my plans for later in the week, dinner with my friend Isabella - turns out she was sick and so were her kids. Had to cancel with my friend Mariya - she was sick too. My sister Thalia and her husband Jared were sick and were both working from home. So not only were they fighting a virus but eventually with each other over trivial things, Thalia felt compelled to text me a play by play:

Text message 1 -  "So sick, weak and tired, but am working on the computer".
Text message 2 - "Coughing and sneezing for hours, need bread, so sick but have so much work to do".
Text message 3 - "Jared left all the mugs on the coffee table and made a mess in the kitchen :( ".
Text message 4 - "So tired, don't have the energy to make tea, but have so much work to do. You'd think just once Jared would baby me a bit, need TLC".

These types of texts continued for about a week, my text response was the same every time, "Aww too bad honey, hope you feel better soon. I'm sick too, look and feel like hell."

During the middle of the week, The Complicator brought me some cold medicine at my request that came complete with an unsolicited pep talk at the most inopportune time about how I was being a "little puppy" and that I was actually fine. The Complicator said, "Why are your eyes red?" I replied, "Er, because I'm sick, hence the request for the cold meds". I was then told to toughen up. He then started nattering about how I should wear a plastic garbage bag and start running on the treadmill. I may have been on drugs but he was clearly delusional. Some how he seemed to magically ignore the sneezing, the coughing and me sprawled out on the couch in a drug induced coma. No TLC, just tough love is what I got, I couldn't wait for him to leave so that I could rest without the extra chatter.

My mum was calling me every hour on the hour to make sure I wasn't dead, which was comforting and  annoying at the same time. When I would reluctantly answer the phone, I could hear my dad yelling in the background, "Why didn't she get the flu shot, I told her to get the flu shot". I softly whispered, "Mum, can you tell Dad I did get the flu shot".

Just as I got my mum off the phone (again), I mistakenly answered the phone thinking it was my mum calling back and it turned out to be my friend Professor Langley Tate (who has a nauseatingly soft spot for me). I had been avoiding his calls for a few weeks, and was texting him knowing full well he doesn't know how to text. Professor Langley Tate and I used to work together eons ago (before he was a professor) and have been friends ever since. He seems to be fascinated with everything I do, say, write, read and I'm the portal for his otherwise safe existence. I can make him laugh easily about anything and everything, sometimes even cheekily poking fun at his "academic comments" which he is clearly oblivious to. He is a nice person, but sometimes gets on my nerves.

This was a bit of our conversation:

Professor Langley Tate: "What's been going on, tell me everything".

Me: "Well, as you can probably tell I'm sick, (cough, cough, sneeze, sneeze, cough)".

Professor Langley Tate: "Well you just need a dose of Dr. Tate's chicken soup. I'll just have to stop by with some".

Me: "No thanks, I already made some and The Complicator has been checking in on me".

Professor Langley Tate: "Wow, you make your own chicken soup too? I would love to try your chicken soup sometime".

Me (Perturbed): "I don't crave chicken soup on a regular basis Langley, I only make it for myself when I'm sick, the only other person I make chicken soup for is Thalia".

Professor Langley Tate: "I was really hoping to see you over the holidays".

Me (Annoyed): "Langley, I barely had time to come up for air with all the family get togethers, I'll see you in the spring, I have to catch up with some of my other friends first".

When I finally got Professor Langley Tate off the phone, I put my phone on silent, took my cold medicine, applied Vicks on my throat and chest (that's the best), used my menthol inhaler, took my Ibuprofen and tried to rest. I figured answering the phone was just counter productive to my recovery.

After a few days, once I was back to my cheerful moody self, I decided to weigh myself. If anything had come out of this awful week, it had to be weight loss right? Wrong! Apparently, I was a few pounds up. Drats! Perhaps a little too much bread with my chicken soup!

Moody Girl Out.