"I think you need to go to the emergency room."
This from Hubby two nights ago as I emerged from a 10 p.m. bath. What? Why?
"You look white."
Well. Thanks for noticing, chocolate cocoa skinned guy. I am white. Have been for the last 35 years of our acquaintanceship.
"Go look in the mirror."
I dutifully trotted back into the bathroom and examined my face in the mirror. Hum. Well, it looked exactly like the face I'd been seeing for the last 61 (nearly 62) years of my life -- except without any makeup. He's seen that face a whole lot.
"I'm fine," I answered as I climbed back into bed where I'd been for the last six days. "Just fine."
"You've called the sub office?" was the only reply.
That day I had ventured forth from my bed back to the classroom but had only lasted through two periods before Hubby had to come retrieve me from school. It was the cold sweats that did me in that day. I was wearing a nice heavy fleece shirt, but I kept having these sweats that left me shivering in my boots.
Friday it had been the "every four hour" bouts of diarrhea that had kept me from going to school. On Monday of last week I thought I was getting a cold. On Tuesday I felt a tightness in my head and I sneezed a lot. On Wednesday, I sounded like I had extremely bad head cold congestion -- in fact I've sounded that way ever since. My nose runs, I cough, then I sneeze. I've coughed until even orange juice hurts going down. My nose is raw. Last night, day 10 -- my teeth hurt because of the congestion still in my head.
Every day a new symptom will appear to add to my misery. The diarrhea came with miserable cramping. It wasn't debilitating -- just two minutes of pain, run to the bathroom, wait four hours for it to hit again. However, when the bathroom is half a mile away, down a long concrete corridor (and frequently the door is locked when you get there), school is pretty much out until you get the tummy under control.
Hubby's crack about the emergency room did not help me overcome this nasty virus. The man believes firmly in the power of positive thinking, that you only need a doctor to pronounce you dead, and emergency rooms are for wimps. If he thought I looked sick enough to go to the hospital, then clearly, I was one sick cookie.
So -- I've been in bed, feeling dreadful, since last Wednesday. Luckily, Wednesday was a snow day for us -- and since I showed up Monday I didn't get docked for that as sick day -- but I'm still home, trying to get well -- and that makes four six days taken -- and actually six days out of school.
This is one evil cold. I wish it would go away. Now.