I've been a bit under the weather this week. I tend to be pretty tough from an immune standpoint, but this past year has hit me with more than a few bugs. Not surprising, really: It's a well-known fact that having people you love die has a negative impact on your immune system for a year or so, and I've been stacking up losses left and right.
That being said, it is extremely rare for anything to hit my GI system. Even my migraines tend to leave my gut alone. But this....THING...that Squeaker brought home from school..... Dang.
I had an eye exam Thursday morning. They tend to trigger migraines, so I really tend to put them off. This one was more than a year overdue, but everything was good, no change in prescription, all is well, except that two hours later when I went to work I looked like some sort of crazed junky with my right eye about normal and my left fully dialated (which, by-the-by, stayed that way for about another four hours).
So when I started feeling anxious and queasy in the mid-afternoon, I thought for sure I was going to be hit with a migraine. In fact, my last patient of the day was being seen for migraines, and I joked with her about not worrying if I suddenly had to leave to puke. She laughed - we migraine people find that sort of thing funny in a sad sort of way.
Once she was done, I found I was totallly unable to finish any more computer work. I shut down and went home.
On my schedule for Friday morning were four house calls with a resident.
By morning I had gotten rid of Thursday's lunch, breakfast, rehydration attempts, and, I am pretty sure, Wednesday's dinner as well. I actually didn't feel TOO horrible, so when the resident arrived at my house, we headed out. First patient? No problem. Second? Not bad but I handed off the keys and had her drive after that and let my manager know I was a no-go for afternoon clinic. Third? I think I was okay, but my Tylenol had worn off, everything hurt and I was grateful for a sensible second set of eyes. Fourth? Well, I perked up a bit and made it through but was grateful indeed to escape in the end.
Last night was the first time I ate a solid meal since.
I'm the last to have it. Squeaker gave it to his mom, and they were both ill for two days and recovering for one. Babygirl had it, ill for two days and recovering for three or four. Me? Ill for 12 hours and recovering for 2 days. Nasty sucker. Hubby's in the recovery phase now and he's been the least sick.
Why. Does. Sickness. Come. On. Weekends?
If this weren't a holiday I'd be going back to work today, dammit.