Fuck Being Sick

The last time I was seriously sick was in November 2019. I was in Brussels and had the flu. This was less than optimal since I has just four days into a two-week Europe trip and had just been through Copenhagen and Amsterdam. Fortunately I had an Airbnb, so on my only full day in the city I just let the fever and chills and fatigue do their worse to me with no interference from housekeeping or anything else. Somehow I felt good enough to continue my journey to Paris the next day and go on with my vacation.

One of the best things about the pandemic was staying home and avoiding everyone’s cooties. Even after we started getting back to normal, I managed to avoid everyone’s cooties. So aside from my reaction to the Covid jabs, I had not been sick in the ensuing years. Until last month.

The first weekend last month I was in Vegas with two of my aunts (who were celebrating birthdays) and my cousin Gina. I was the driver, the only reason I was invited, so we rented a giant fucking Expedition and had a good weekend at Resorts World. We got back Monday, and it was when I was at work on Tuesday that I felt a cough. Fuck. I knew I was sick. The rest of the week was me trying to work from home but just being too fatigued to do anything. I had a real bad cough, and for a couple of days I had a fever and chills. By the end of the next week, I barely started feeling better to go back to work, but I was still coughing away. In fact I still have this lingering cough.

But man, this knocked me on my ass for a couple of weeks. The expired at-home Covid tests said I didn’t have Covid, but who knows? Maybe I finally got Covid? It felt more like a traditional flu. I made sure to mask up so I didn’t spread it to anyone, so I did my part to nip it in the bud.

Moral of the story: don’t get this flu. Just don’t.