One of the teeny tiny benefits of having the H1N1 virus is the potential to score a narcotic cough suppressant prescription.
(Don’t judge me. I was as sick as a broke dick dog and I am completely unashamed of spending most of the last week in a narcotic haze. I would have entertained you with drug induced Twitter updates, but my head hurt too much when I forced it into the upright position.)
I had six straight days of fever and that is long enough to get into a sort of bizarre routine that revolves around medicating, hydrating, eliminating, and sleeping. When I’m sick I don’t like to be messed with. This means I like to be ALONE, in my bed, with the dog, with MSNBC playing at the precisely low volume of ten. Ten is the volume on my television which I can hear if I’m awake and paying attention, but not loud enough to prevent me from slipping off to sleep.
I’m still trying to get my groove back and part of my groove is figuring out what happened in the world while I sacrificed a week of my life to H1N1. I have the following snipits, gleaned while in a narcotic-ly induced semi-coma. I’m just really hoping I have some of this wrong.
Fever Day 1
Someone (I better not find you) dared to befoul the holy grail of automobiles, my new Volvo. Yes, it was egged. I was instantly and positively convinced that the perpetrator of this heinous crime was the same hateful thief that stole my Obama 08 sign last fall. I seem to remember rambling on and on and on about how my poor car had been unjustly targeted because it’s loving owner is an Obama-loving Democratic liberal. Somewhere in the middle of this memory is my husband’s voice saying, “Yeah, Kristi. It’s all about you. Did you not notice the egg shells strewn up and down the entire street? I’m fairly certain you’re the only Obama-loving Democratic liberal in all of Stepford, not to mention on our street, so I think your right wing conspiracy theory might have a few holes.”
Fever Day 2
Someone (I assume my husband) arranged for a wonderfully kind man to spend three hours in my garage detailing the outside of the Volvo. I remember that this man was tall, had olive skin, and seemed to be purposely keeping at least three feet between himself and me while we spoke. The Stepford Wife that resides in the deep recesses of my mind suggested that I shower and change my sweats prior to going back into the garage to discuss payment. I’m fairly certain I told that bitch to “shut up” prior to crawling back into the bed. When the nice egg eliminator knocked on the door for payment, he asked that I pay him via Paypal. It did not occur to me at the time that he might not want to touch a check on which I may have coughed.
Fever Day 3
I’m fairly certain that this is the day that I showered (which also makes this the last day that week I attempted such a foolish task), but did not take the time to wash my hair. This is also probably the day that the whore’s nest of a knot began behind my right ear. Unfortunately, I did not discover said whore’s nest of a knot for several more days and by that time—well, see below. This is also the day my mind begins to debate the benefits of accelerating my cough medicine dosage against the very real risk of running out of medication. Overdosing, strangely enough, never entered my mind. This is also the day I begin to believe that everyone in the blogosphere is wearing yellow ribbons until I return to my keyboard. I fantasize that Twitter will wait for me. I’m convinced there is a “Heal Kristi Stevens” group on Facebook.
Fever Day 4
This is the day my brain really begins to simmer inside my head and I become convinced that the very next coughing spell will actually expel my cervix out of my vagina, thereby causing me to be airlifted to the hospital for an emergency hysterectomy. I’m also vaguely aware that the President will be addressing a joint session of Congress on health care reform that evening. In an ironic twist, being deathly ill makes me a lot less interested in health care reform than I am on a healthy day. I remember two things from the President’s speech. The first is that about half way through, some sort of bizarre Town Hall meeting broke out. I wasn’t sure how the angry teabaggers got past security, but was pleased when Nancy Pelosi made them go away with her death ray stare. The other thing I remember is thinking how much I loved Barack Obama. It is true. If you want me to love you, just starting talking about social justice, moral obligations, the character of our country, and Ted Kennedy. Take that you teabagging heckler (I mean Joe Wilson).
Fever Day 5
This day was the worst. On my cable box, MSNBC is channel forty-two and CNN is forty. It’s nice that they are close to each other since they are my main two channels for television news. However, there is a problem. Fox News is sandwiched in between on channel forty-one. I usually avoid this inconvenience by hitting forty-two, then manually punching in forty on the remote control, and then using the “last” button to switch back and forth. This way I can pretend channel forty-one does exist on my television. However, sometime during my afternoon nap, which began on MSNBC’s channel forty-two, I think the seventy pound yellow lab rolled over on the remote and switched the channel to Fox News’ channel forty-one. This was very bad. In my semi-conscious dream state, I dreamt that H1N1 had killed me and that I had awoke in Hell where I had been sentenced to spend eternity listening to Glenn Beck’s lunatic ravings. This dream transitioned into another where Glenn Beck was actually a televangelist and I was somehow being held captive in his studio audience. Needless to say, when I awoke, I was not at a good place and immediately reached for the cough meds.
Fever Day 6
By day six I was just done. Done done done. I was exhausted, weepy, and I had a golf ball-sized whore’s nest of a knot behind my right ear. I thought on and off during the day about trying to sort the knot out, but never attempted it. Instead, I laid in bed all day, watching MSBNC’s repeat of the actual news coverage from 9/11, and wept at the injustice of that day for its victims and for that of our country. I cussed Osama Bin Laden, George Bush, and Dick Cheney. I spoke to the television and even purposely switched the channel over to Fox so I would have someone with which to argue. I had hit rock bottom. Then, as if God himself knew I could take no more, my fever broke around 6 p.m. Hallelujah.
It’s good to be back amongst the living.