Losing it, 'flu style.
Bear with me, it's long and a bit pointless, but entirely relevent, I promise.

The backstory : Sometime last November, I had the house to myself as my parents and brother had gone away for a long weekend. It was great - I'd been in a new job for a couple of months, which meant I had money, which inevitably meant I had several friends round on the Friday for a night of drinking and massive drugs! (Ok, maybe not that massive...). Seeing as I live in the back end of nowhere and it's impossible to get a taxi or bus from there at anything past ten, a couple of them crashed on the sofa.

Now, I'd had a bit of a cold that week, which meant I wasn't feeling too brilliant but a dose of fall-down juice soon made that better. The next morning, I woke up faced with the usual bombsite-aftermath/still-sleeping mates/hangover. I get the house back sometime around 12, at which point I decide to have a little lie down.

Three hours later, I've gone from feeling a bit hungover to being convinced that I'm physically unable to stand up, move my arms or do anything other than lie on the sofa and stare at the ceiling. During this time, I'd gone to sleep and woken up about 5 times and am now starting to panic, having dismissed the idea that it was just a hangover/combination of too much booze and a cold. The thought of phoning my boyfriend/parents/nan/anyone had crossed my mind, but my phone was miles away. And I couldn't move to get it. Shit.

I think I lay there panicking for about half an hour before my brain kicked in and went "just... stand up." I think I managed to have a shower and walk the dog, by which point I'd decided I would be ok. Then I threw up. And it went downhill from there.

I somehow managed to sort the house out, but most of the following week is a blur. I had fever-dreams while I was awake, would get somewhere and not remember leaving the house, make food, forget I'd eaten it and wonder why I kept being sick (logically, I reasoned, I can't be sick if I hadn't eaten), and various other small things that had me convinced I was going insane. By then, of course, I'd realised I had the flu, but the small part of my brain that remained rational was drowned out by the fever and the paranoid belief that I was going to cough myself to death. That lasted about a week - the time off work was *not* worth it.

Apologies for lack of funnies, but at least its (mostly) on topic.
(TuftyBee should have been working on, Fri 22 Jul 2011, 16:51, Reply)