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The ravages of white-collar virii

Tuesday afternoon I was feeling pretty alright: a little sleep-deprived and hungry, but nothing out of the ordinary. I did notice a little pain in my lymph nodes, but I chalked it up to muscle soreness from having slept wrong or something. The first real sign of trouble came immediately after my workout, when I stood up next to the pool and almost fell over. Low blood sugar, I told myself. Nothing to worry about.

I didn’t really give into the fact that I had contracted some horrible disease until I was getting ready to go to bed that night, when I noticed that it was freezing cold in my apartment. Given the turn-of-the-century heating technology and the large, poorly insulated windows, this is a not uncommon occurrence at my place. But a few minutes lying under my very cozy down comforter, shivering so violently it might be called convulsing, I knew something besides environmental factors was causing my discomfort. My trusty Safeway oral thermometer confirmed that I was running a fever of 102 degrees, but I didn’t need it to tell me that life was about to suck pretty hard. I spent the next two hours putting on my warmest clothing and wrapping the blankets around myself, then stripping naked and lying on top of the sheets, repeatedly, as my idiot immune system played with my internal thermostat and perceptions of the same, trying to smoke out the foreign invader. Needless to say, I didn’t sleep during this period.

Wednesday, the virus sucked all the joy out of skipping work, subjecting my body to the same inconveniences as the night before and adding a pounding headache, dizziness, and muscle soreness all over. I took it extraordinarily easy.

Today my fever finally broke around noon, a delightful cool feeling washing over me after 36 hours of haywire temperature regulation — the virus flushed itself as quickly as it had swept in. This afternoon I felt well enough to walk downtown and get my license renewed, and right before that I grew this mustache. I was this close to getting my new license photo taken with it, but wisely shaved it off. It will be back, though — the mustache is back in for the first time since the 70’s, and there is no way I can afford to wait *another* 30-some-odd years for it to come into style again.

One of the nice things about maintaining a personal website is that I can confirm, for example, that I hadn’t been this sick in almost 4 years. I didn’t go to the emergency room this time, despite the fact that I now live nextdoor to one, which I think is a sign of personal growth.

Posted in Musings.

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