Last week both husband and colleague had the crud. They had different versions of it and different ways of dealing with it but mostly they wanted me to hear about how miserable it was to have the crud.
I understand and I did mete out some sympathy and said things like, “you should rest” and “here’s a lozenge.” But also I got to a point where I’d heard enough whining about the crud.
I knew my days were probably numbered. Monday when I went to bed and I had a little scratchy throat and I thought, “I hope it’s not my turn with the crud.”
I woke up Tuesday morning and I didn’t even know what was happening. I was trembling with a raging headache and ached all over so bad I groaned when I moved. I got up long enough to tell colleague I was staying home and cancel a dentist appointment and I got back in bed.
I then slept for about 20 of the next 24 hours. Even reading and watching TV didn’t feel great. I listened to an audiobook while bundled up under the covers. I had an appetite but nothing sounded good.
I can’t remember the last time I missed any time off from work for being sick. I stayed home for two days. I already felt a lot better the second day and I went to work on Thursday. I felt fine until the end of the day and then I crashed hard, staggered home, and went to bed really early. I’m taking it easy today. A couple of chores but mostly sitting around reading and I’m going to watch a movie this afternoon.
I think the moral is that talking about being sick is like talking about the dream you had — it’s always more interesting to talk about than to listen to.