ChatterLei

Have you ever felt like you wanted to zip your skin off, crawl out of it, and leave it in your bed to disintegrate and go down the drain in the weekly wash with other skin cells sluffed off during the week?

The covers were the first thing I threw off this morning. Those normally comfy, cozy sheets between me and the comforter were like sandpaper to my skin.

Not welcome.

My visit to the nearest Redicare went as I anticipated. Flu and Covid test, negative. X-ray, negative for pneumonia. Breathing treatment increased my low blood pressure and pushed my oxygen level from 89 to 93. Blood tests will show whether there is a bacterial infection or if it’s viral. They will call with the results. My ringer is on high so I don’t miss it.

The call will come just after I stop coughing and finally fall asleep for the nap my body is longing for.

Sleep is healing, they say.

It remains to be seen whether the Tamiflu will be helpful for my achy body, sore throat, headache, and cough. The doctor is treating it like my flu swab produced a false negative.

______

That was yesterday. The call came (before I arrived home). My white count is “beautiful,” and my inflammatory markers are only a little elevated.

Perfect.

Hundreds of dollars later, a prescription of prednisone and Tamiflu, and I’m on my way.

I thought, “Oh! I feel better already.”

Last night, I had to plug in the heating pad for my feet so I would stop shivering. My fever was 100.7. Loaded up with cough medicine and tylenol (opted not to take the Tamiflu), I finally felt enough comfort to fall asleep.

It was a restless night, but today is a new day. The sun is shining. Breakfast sounds good.

A few spoonfuls of honey raisin oatmeal, an orange, and a handful of prescription meds, and I am good to go…. back to bed.

I am going back to bed. To sleep. For healing.