Pre Sick Day: I think I might be getting sick. Yes. Definitely. No. Maybe not. Allergies? Just tired? No, I'm getting sick. X was sick last week and I probably picked it up there.
Pre-Sick Night: Ugh, I'm definitely getting sick. Stupid sore throat. So scratchy and hard to swallow. It burns! It burns!
Day one: Oh, hey. It's not that bad really.My sore throat feels a little better. I can beat this thing no problem! Bring on the OJ and soup! I'm winning, I'm winning!
Night one: Oh. my. god. My brain is clogged with phlegm and it's running out my nose unstoppably. I've used up all the toilet paper in the downstairs bathroom because we have no tissues. I'm sleeping with a bandanna under my nostrils to keep my pillow dry. Just let that snot flow, baby. Ugh, I feel like crap.
Day Two: Oh, my god. I'm going to die. I can't breathe. Every time I swallow my ears make a crazy glugging sound and then I can't hear right for a few minutes. I can't taste anything. Every fiber in my body aches. I can hardly keep my eyes open. When I blink I hear my eyeballs creaking. I'll never be healthy again. Waaaahhh!
Night two: I will never again be able to sleep. If I breathe through my mouth, my lips, tongue and throat become the Mojave and I wake up unable to produce saliva or swallow. But if I try to breathe through my nose, I die of suffocation. I'll just make a little tent around my head out of my blankets and breathe through my mouth under here like a little virus-breath-filled steam tent. Still no sleep.
Day three: Hey, I can breathe a little bit! I haven't had to wipe snot for the past 30 minutes! Cool! Wow...look at my nose. Red, raw, flaking skin. Disgusting. Hawrk, hack, cough, Have I been smoking for 40 years? That is one hell of a barking cough. I go to the store for some cough drops and people look at me like I've got TB. What are you lookin' at, you stupid healthy people. Get outta my way or you're next.
Night three: Can't sleep. Can't lay flat without coughing fit waking me every time I start to drift off. If I cough one more time like that I'll either vomit, hack up a laryngeal fold or cry. Maybe all three. But wow...I think this might be a good abdominal work out program. I will spend the night in the recliner chair watching Youtube videos, drinking tea and feeling sorry for myself.
Day four: F-U cold! Fine, you're winning. Whatever. I am going to the store and I'm buying DRUGS, dammit! Did you hear me, coronavirus! I'm gonna bring the 'Quil hate to rain down of your MF-ing head, beatch! You're not keeping me down anymore! I've got things to do, people to see, important life to live! Ah...Dayquil. The friendly kid sister to the Nyquil nighttime bully. Relief. Why didn't I take drugs sooner?
Night Four: Well, hello there, anise flavored, syrupy green, elixir for the sick...where have you been all my life. Ah...the taste of sleep and crazy effed up dreams. Thank you, Nyquil. I love you. See you again tomorrow night?
And so ends the story of the first four days of a coronavirus' trajectory.
of note: I am not currently sick nor do I hope to become sick with anything common or uncommon. Thanks for sparing me from your potential germs, M.