Bed is the only place for you
Bed is the only place for you
Thursday 30th of April arrived
I felt decidedly second-hand when I woke up and it went downhill from there. I felt as if I had been rejected by the local rubbish dump. Eventually I retired to bed very early in the evening. MrsB took my temperature, 38.3 and added. “Yup, bed is the only place for you. Sounds like you have flu“.
No supper, no glass of wine instead a cold aching body that shivered and desperately wanted to get warm. I did not even have the energy for a shower.
Friday morning
I persuaded myself that I was fine so I got dressed and staggered downstairs. Breakfast had no appeal but MrsB knows my weaknesses.
“Shall I buy you an almond croissant?” she said knowingly.
“Oooh yes please” passed my lips without a moment’s hesitation.
Half an hour later I was tucking into an almond croissant and a cup of coffee. Then further action was not an option. MrsB said “Bed is the only place for you” so off I went.
I retired to bed
MrsB turned on the radio and I listened to Desert Island Discs. I can’t even remember who it was but the noise was relaxing. The day passed in a haze. There was the occasional Lemsip, lots of glasses of squash and the pile of used tissues grew. Most important of all, I slept and I slept..
Saturday morning arrived
I still felt unable to do anything positive. Food was not an option. Traditionally Saturday is Chelsea bun day! I had no problem in banishing that thought from my mind. Instead it was the gentle tones on Radio 4 Jay Rayner with the Kitchen Cabinet that morphed into The Money Box then Any Questions.
Could I be on the mend
At noon I tried to sit up but on reflection horizontal was still the preferred position. As 3 o’clock approached I summoned up the energy to get out of bed and retune the radio and listen to the Rugby Champions Cup Leinster vs Wasps. I think I heard most of it. Food was still definitely off the menu. My diet was just cups of tea, glasses of squash and cups of Lemsips and more sleep. Not many calories but good enough for me.
Sleep on Saturday night was my best for three or four nights. Sunday morning arrived. It was a sunny day.
I could now sit up in bed
I could even face a late breakfast I ate two pieces of toast and marmalade washed down with coffee. My recovery had started. In the afternoon I ventured out on my Trike to buy supper. I even cooked it, a piece of topside of beef. It had been three days without a proper meal or drink.
It is a long slow recovery. Only the heard hearted would have called this Man flu.
April 2017
