A journal of the flu, or how I am the worst sick person in the world.

The Flu: Day 1

Argh, argh, meltdown! Everything unbearably sad, fever fever, can't stand up, better get up because Chinua has hypertension, oh, lying back down. Guilt. Sadness. Fever. Darkness.

The Flu: Day 2

Certainly I will be better today, take medicine, get up, make breakfast, go to the market with all the kids to buy shoes for Leafy. Home, bed, whoops I'm no longer okay. Chills, chills, it hurts everywhere. Chinua brings food. Dying. 

The Flu: Day 3

Worse! I'm worse! Body no good anymore, head feels really far away from feet, skin too sensitive, crying in the kitchen, back to bed with you. Sleep, sleep. Can't focus on words on a page which means: REALLY sick. Chinua brings food. Must eat, can't taste.

The Flu: Day 4

Giving in and resting in bed. Why is the sun so bright and ugly? Everything sticks out and pops you in the face with too much color. Legs and head exist on different planets. Baby comes in occasionally to lie on my face. Children's voices like old tin cans banging on concrete. Chinua brings food, bless him. Can't think about anything at all without near emotional and mental implosion. Take me Jesus. 

The Flu: Day 5

(Lifts head tentatively) Wait, I think... fever is gone. Gone! Whoops, unsteady legs, slow down sailor. Up and at em, go to market, look around fuzzily, what am I supposed to be buying? Why must everything be bright? Home, tidy, lie down, write a bit, lie down, moan. Hang out with Isaac. Celebrate standing and talking!

The Flu: Day 6

Life might actually be worth living. Body aches, lungs clearly useless, sinuses in the act of mutiny, but look, pretty! The sun is shining and I guess it's not gross after all, maybe beautiful even? Kids have melodious voices and are funny! Only a little crying, mostly standing, cooking, drinking beautiful water and well, whoa, still not so safe in my head. Let's think those thoughts again tomorrow, maybe they'll be easier another day.