Yeah remember what I said earlier about my luck changing for the better? Well strike that. All of it with a big, fat, juicy marker. John and I are both just barely back from the dead. In fact, I don’t think we’ve actually set foot in the land of the living just yet. Since Saturday, we’ve been on this insane rollercoaster of illness, extremely sick at times, moderately coherent at others, and then totally loopy in between. Jesus frickin’ Christ. I was so out of it, I think I was asking John whether the H in “Jesus H Christ” stood for “Hey-sus.” See what I mean? Completely out of it. I even skipped classes for this bullshit illness, so you know, this is some serious shit.
On Sunday, I was so delirious, I couldn’t even remember if I had taken the pups out in the morning. I dunno what bugs we caught where, but John and I both got nailed and it knocked us out swiftly. We were fine Friday night: we had a very nice dinner with our friend Joon, who himself was just recovering from a weeklong bout with food poisoning. The dinner was excellent, nothing unusual or odd tasting. That night though, John started getting the runs. Saturday morning, I couldn’t get out of bed: I felt really tired and ended up sleeping in to the uncharacteristically late hour of 3pm. We then met up with some friends for dinner and were back in bed by 10 pm. John had to keep going to the bathroom, and I was just all achy and hot/cold. Monday, we were bedridden. He with a fever, aches, and major runs; I continued with a fever, a headache, and muscle aches. At some point, Remy came up to me. I thought she was trying to console me in my moment of misery. Wrong: she simply proceeded to barf up some undigested potato chunks. Our apartment was a goddamn infirmary. John and I were convinced someone was going to find Remy and Martin next week feasting on our rotting bodies.
I don’t think John and I have ever been sick at the same time. It really sucks: I pity people who live alone… no one’s there to pull you out of the sinkhole. We popped all kinds of pills Sunday, and thank goodness our fevers finally broke around 8 pm. Of course, I thought that meant the worst was over. Nope. For the next 48 hours, I would go in and out of fever. I didn’t even bother taking my temperature… whenever I get a fever, the mercury climbs way high. I likely suffered some brain damage. I mean, I got all kinds of freaky dreams about Dallas (JR and Patrick Ewing… major old-school drama), my college roommate, and some friend starting up a doggie shop. Random, crazy shit. I dunno how I did it, but I managed to haul my ass to class Monday morning to take my quiz. God forbid I miss an evaluation, right? I know, I’m psycho, what can I say. Well, I thought I was feeling better, but as soon as I got up and moving, the dizziness hit. Probably tanked the quiz. I headed home afterwards, skipping my listening class. Tuesday (today), I stayed home again. Everytime I stood up, I got a massive headache. Around lunchtime, we went to the store to get some soup (nothing in the house) but by the time we came back, it was back into the bed. Two lifeless, pathetic souls paralyzed for three whole days. I don’t understand really. How can I be so physically weak and unhealthy? This sickness is really doing a number on us. I don’t have any explanations (although my friend Pamela insists it’s mental… gee, thanks), but we better get over this soon because I’m tired of being an invalid. I’m going to try to do a phone teaching thing this evening. Been trying to schedule it for three days now, so tonight I hope I’m up for it.