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Saturday, Jan. 25, 2003 / 1:37 p.m. ~Crash and Burn Upon Re-Entry~ Since there are four people who actually make it a point to read this, and may be thinking I died, for you I write to let you know I am alive. I have been very sick. Let's call it an upper respiratory viral infection, aka 'cold'. I'll call it the black death. It started with that dry cough on the bus last Saturday night, post-demonstration. Then I slept on Sunday, as I recall. But it's mostly a blur now. I remember Monday I was cranky, and when I got the big pimple on my cheek I should have realized that the intense irritation at the march was PMS. It just seemed too soon, I hadn't been expecting it. So, Monday, the tail end of PMS, I was clueless, even with big pimple and intense irritation and exhaustion and everything else, blamed it all on the demonstration, the no sleeping on the bus, and when anyone asked, "How was Washington?", all I could mutter was, "cold and crowded". Monday night I woke myself up coughing. ALL night. I planned to call in sick Tuesday morning, had to set my alarm, woke over and over again thinking it was time to make 'the call', and how would I word it? "H., I'm sick", "H., I need to stay in bed today.", "H., I woke myself up ALL night coughing, I am SO sick, why me????!!!!". I slept Tuesday. I don't even remember. I may have written here. The thing with "Lederhoser" still had me pissed. I was fed up with this, this diary, why write online? Why do people of his generation, the twentysomethings of this new millenium, think that anyone with a lot of money is inherently evil? Is that something every generation experiences? Maybe I'm a product of the "ME Generation", the one where we all felt we could have whatever we wanted. Anyone could go out and pursue the American dream. And that on the heels of the "Don't trust anyone over 30" mantra of the '60s. I think we're all confused, and especially young people. I know, I was young once. It's looking for something to latch on to, something to believe in, something to trust, someone to trust. But McDonald's is not the enemy. I remember when they redesigned ALL their packaging! Remember that? Yeah, they came under pressure from environmentalists for using styrofoam boxes for their burgers. Sure, it helped them stay warmer longer, but the crushing of the material after it was used released dangerous CFCs into the atmosphere, endangering the ozone, etc. They switched to paper. I really respected them after that, not that I hadn't before, but it's like the NYT bestsellers, you lose respect for something so incredibly popular, so enjoyed by the (obviously idiot) masses. Every now and then the masses know what's good, even if it's not good for you. Then there was the Rainforest beef. Remember that one? Oh yeah, rumor had it McD's used the cheap beef from the South American countries that tore down the rainforest so they could graze beef cattle instead. Graze on what? The cattle was nasty, underfed, probably diseased, who knows, but these people exported it, supposedly for American frozen foods, and big fast food chains, like McD's. McD's printed out thousands of flyers espousing their theories and practices, swearing on their mother's graves and their children's lives that they did not and never would use Rainforest cattle for their beef! Whatever. Lederhoser and his ilk are using McDonald's as some sort of scapegoat for the evils of American society, but it's misplaced, it's just wrong, and his writing to me to tell me how wrong I am pissed me off to the point that I really didn't care anymore. Not that he chased me away, but I've dealt with more than my share of nuts on Diaryland, and questioned over and over again why I write here, or online anywhere. So, like when I used a cold as an opportunity to quit smoking way back when I was 16 years old, I was using a cold as an opportunity to consider quitting Diaryland now. The cold and the loss of my new computer. The combination has been a real deterrent. Everything is still very undecided. I'm realizing I am of a very distinct generation. And kids in their 20s are kids. The 'new girl' at work, the very cute 22 year old, asked me about Washington, and she was the only one to ask if I had fun. I said, "No, I didn't have fun, I wish I had had fun." And then I succumbed. She had sat in my cubicle almost refusing to use my keyboard, my mouse, told me she didn't want to get me sick, and I don't know if it's her sick I have, but I got it. Remember she was out sick on Monday..... After being off on Tuesday I made the effort to go in on Wednesday, thinking I shouldn't call in two days in a row. Luckily the Manager (M) was hovering around and when she asked how I was, right in front of H., the Supervisor, I said, "I'm sick". And I'm sure I looked really pitiful and awful. I had a fever and felt like I was going to pass out. Kind of like right now. But I have less of a fever now. So, Manager turns to Supervisor and tells her to send me home, and I, knowing that this Supervisor would never do such a thing, turn to her and say, "It's up to you", and the Manager (M) says, "We don't want anyone here to be sick, we want you to go home and get better, we need you at peak, we don't want anyone else getting sick...", and etc. So, with both saying, "Go home", off I went. 1 1/2 hours in and I was out. Publix for chicken soup, in three different varieties, of course, orange juice, more water (since I'll never be able to drink my tap water again - as it is TOXIC!!!), and frozen goodies, home, sofa, blanket, cats, hours and hours of "Guding Light"s on tape, nap, more "GL"s, "Felicity", "Star Search", "The Bachelorette" (Jesus! Do you watch that show?!), "Celebrity Mole" (in bed by now). Back to work on Thursday, feeling pretty good, my eyes are more than mere slits, the fever has passed, now it's a head cold, it's not the flu, the painful skin phase has passed. It's nose blowing and coughing and moaning now. I have my sense of humor back, everyone can tell I'm better (and EVERYONE cares, they really do, it warms my cockles). So I guess I made it a whole day. Did I? Did I go to work Thursday? Is that the day it never got above 23 degrees? Is that the day I told everyone, "This is what it was like in D.C. on Saturday, the WHOLE day!!" I think I ate some chicken soup and got in bed after "Star Search". I think it was hard to eat. I think Thursday was the day Listerine went to the store at lunch and bought me Dayquil and Nyquil and I finally started taking the drugs. That's right. That's the day it never got above 23 degrees and I couldn't bare to go outside until after work. I planned to get a sandwich from the vending machine at lunch, but when I went to do so it was broken, "Temporarily Out Of Service", so I got online and checked email, saw that Brent is willing to sell me yet another 'new' computer, an even better one, but what I really want is to fix the one that's sitting right here..... I took the Dayquil and searched for signs of improvement. That night I took the Nyquil and it kept me up all night, with the tossing and the turning and the coughing. And Friday morning it was 9 or 10 degrees, and I had to bathe, I had to get wet, to wash my hair, to actually start my car and let it run for fear it would otherwise break or something. And I came back in and gave a little cursory blow dry to my hair, went back out to see huge gusts of white smoke emanating from my car's exhaust, like those old cars you get behind sometimes in traffic, and you have to roll up your windows, and virtually stop breathing until you pass them. I drove for about 5 minutes and it was gone, but I was scared I wouldn't make it to work. Scarf covering my mouth, hat, gloves, big coat, everything I could do and I felt like I was going to die. Again, "How are you feeling? Are you better? Oh......" All I had to do was look the inquiring party in the eye and he/she could see immediately that I was on death's doorstep. And death was asking me to come on in already because it's cold outside and my indecision is letting in a lot of cold air, thank you very much. I took Dayquil, I ate a Clementine tangerine (what's WITH those things? seeds, seeds, seeds), I ate trail mix, I blew my nose, I coughed, I hacked, I blew, I coughed, I hocked, it wasn't pretty. And no one offered to send me home, so I stayed. I think I worked all day yesterday. I seem to remember sitting in my cubicle, sweatshirt that says, "I Love Cats", jeans, sneakers, hair pulled into ponytail, big pimple turning into red scab after being squeezed twice from whitehead. Finally realizing that pain in my lower abdomen is cramps, I'm not only at death's doorstep and death is really impatient, but I've got my period and I can barely tell because I'm so fucking sick. To the tune of "Get better! You'll be all better on Monday!" I came home in the bitter cold, crawled into bed and watched "Felicity" and "Son of Frankenstein" and coughed and blew and took my temperature with my talking thermometer, "Your body temperature is ninety nine point six degrees fahrenheit". "See?", I ask the felines. "I'm officially sick". And because I'm in bed they think it's later than it is, so I have to feed them to appease them and get them to cuddle with me. It was "Sons" night on TCM, and you gotta love that Robert Osbourne. After "Son of Frankenstein" was "Son of ..." something else, and I fell asleep, thank god, but woke later to "Son of Sinbad" and that was almost too intriguing to sleep through. Almost. I finally turned off the TV, wished I'd brushed my teeth, but couldn't imagine going to that much trouble, and fell asleep. Woke up coughing, coughing, coughing, hacking, etc. You get the picture. Then at some point, a miracle.... I could breathe through my nose. No drugs since the last Dayquil taken at work. Just me and my body, and half a ham and cheese sandwich for fuel (no appetite at all). I could breathe, I was calm and peaceful. Maybe I went into death's house after all. I dreamed of a first line for a diary entry. "I was wondering who lives in the houses in my neighborhood", or something similar. And then I was going inside the house across the street (of course I live in an apartment in reality, but what is reality after all?), and it was an Amish boy living there. The house was made of logs and it was all screened in like a porch on the top level. I think there was no electricty. I finally left when I realized the place was full of ticks and I had to pull them off my legs, which wasn't easy. I was with my brother and we politely excused ourselves. He said wooden houses have ticks. We went back home, across the street, and our mom was watching something on TV, totally ignored us, my brother was peeved until I pointed it out, "She's watching a program". I slept, I dreamed (in another I was at a zoo, and in one big round room were tanks filled with hippos all wearing tutus around their necks), I tossed and turned, and when I finally decided to get up at 1:00 this afternoon I took my temperature to see if it was 'normal' to find it was "Ninety eight point six degrees fahrenheit". Now? Well, I've been sitting here writing for a long time, I still have SPAM emails to delete, I'm almost through with my coffee. I woke up craving cereal and orange juice, which is really bizarre because although I always have cereal on hand I seldom eat it. I suppose I'll eat, though I have no appetite now. I suppose I'll go lie down on the sofa, though I'm tired of lying down. I felt like I was going to pass out earlier after getting up and dressed (long sleeve t and flannel pants), as if I'd really exerted myself. And I'm sweating now, as I write this. My fingers are cold and I'm sweating. And it's my period. Physically I'm a mess, but I can see that my mind is relatively okay. I may be getting yet another 'new' computer, if I can ever get in my car and drive into town. And soon, I predict, things will be back to normal. Someone, I think it was Mark, asked me how I got sick, and I wasn't sure. One thought that had occurred to me while I was in the midst of some fever dream was that all the protestors had been 'sprayed' with some biological 'weapon' on Saturday, but I haven't talked to anyone else who went to see if they're all sick like I am. Mark said it's a 'health cycle', because I was sick in October too, after not being sick at all for two years. Once I realized it's my period I realized I'd been in the 'pre' stage during the trip to D.C., and I realized that having been exposed to the 'new girl's virus I was more susceptible to succumbing due to lowered resistance, being that in the Pre Menstrual Stage I have lowered immunity, this is a fact. Therefore, exposure + lowered immunity + extreme conditions, i.e. EXTREME cold, little to no sleep, etc. = COLD FROM HELL, i.e., death's enticing beckoning from doorstep. I haven't been this sick in years, I'll just say that. It's like the 'common cold virus' is getting more powerful. I think it's Saddam Hussein's doing, by way of Ossama Bin Laden, by way of the American CIA and John Gotti or someone, maybe Marie Curie in her lab in the sky. Someone has made a cold that can kill and if I survive it will be a miracle. Onward. Congratulations if you read this far, no cheating. Cost of the War in Iraq
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