When a secondary infection is good news

I suppose I should be more clear--developing the secondary infection was not really a good thing. Having it diagnosed, however, was kind of a relief, to the extent that I was able to appreciate anything.

In retrospect, the cold had been stalking me for a while. All of the long Thanksgiving weekend I had kind of a scratchy throat, but even the days before I was feeling a little tired and rundown, and just putting it aside, except that I skipped Eli's jam session on Wednesday night (which I had really been looking forward to). Otherwise I still worked and shopped and did yard work and walked the dog we were sitting for, and all of the things I felt responsible for. I still made homemade turkey soup from scratch, including the noodles, on Friday. I was really pretty functional, except that I like to prepare the Thanksgiving leftovers for further cooking (putting the right amounts aside for specific meals, and then slicing or chopping or whatever it needs) and I could not bring myself to do it. Everything just went into the freezer, except what I cooked with over the weekend.

Sunday it hit. I was very congested, I had a sore throat, and I had absolutely no energy. I pretty much slept all day. I did still make dinner, on request, but that was pretty much all the energy that I had.

Monday was the same, but I made myself go to work. At that point, it basically felt like a cold, I was capable of working, and I should have been past the contagious stage, so there didn't seem to be a point in not working. I looked awful and sounded awful though, so no one was too surprised when I called in Tuesday. I mainly did that so I could sleep, but also so I could go to the doctor. Maria was convinced I had strep throat, and if I did, that needed attention.

Going to the doctor Tuesday was almost a total bust. The nurse did do a throat swab and the strep test came out negative, so that felt like good news, but the doctor was not much help. She said it was a cold, and she could write a prescription for Sudafed for me to help me dry out, but she made it sound like that was a bad idea, so I declined. I may have been reading too much into that. Honestly, she seemed like she could not get away from me quickly enough, but she was pregnant and I was a cauldron of disease, so I guess that makes sense.

Now confident that I only had a cold, I went back to work Wednesday. I was still not in great shape, but Thursday I am usually off anyway, and I thought I would take one more day of sleep, and then I should be okay. When I was a kid, a cold was five days of sniffling, right? I was almost done. Ha!

First off, I was talking to someone Wednesday night who mentioned having a really bad cold for two weeks, and that was my first premonition I might have longer to go. Still, that was not the worst of it.

Honestly, for most of the day Thursday I was feeling better. My throat still hurt, and the congestion was still bad, but I felt like I had more energy, and more alertness. However, when I went to bad that night, my throat kept filling up with fluids, and I kept having to get up and clear it out. Finally I gave up and moved to the chair in the living room. I was still having to get up a lot, but it was better than when I was lying down. So, being in the chair kept me from drowning, but it was not particularly restful. I called in Friday, and that day was miserable.

I no longer felt more energetic and alert. Sleep deprivation is the fastest way to destroy me. I don't know if I should really make that public. I don't have a lot of enemies, but as far as I know they both read my blog. However, before the despair generally comes irritability and snappishness, so it might pack it's own solution there.

Friday night I was in the chair again, and Saturday morning I went back to the doctor. There had to be something else going on.

With two nights of almost no sleep, and feeling physically weakened and worn down, well, there wasn't much left to me. The nurse started the preliminary questions, and I started getting teary. He handed me the tissue box matter-of-factly, finished his business, and walked out. I tried to regain my composure, and talk myself down from the ledge. Look, you're at the doctor. We'll figure something out even if it is just the Sudafed. Just keep it together.

The doctor walked in and started to talk to me, and then she did a double-take and said "You look like you're going to cry." "I'm not doing very well. (Sob)" I did not have it together.

I started bawling about all the symptoms, and not being able to lie down, and there had to be something, like maybe the first doctor missed something or there was something I could try--and she was like, "Well hold on; I haven't even examined you yet." It was oddly comforting.

So she listened to my lungs and asked me various questions, mainly focusing on my breathing, and she sat back.

"First of all I don't think we should really say only a cold, because they can be pretty nasty, and the one we have going around now is bad and lasts for two weeks..."

Oh no, I am going to be like this for two weeks.

"...but also it leaves us at a risk for secondary infections, and you have pneumonia."

Actually, at first I was too stunned to really comprehend it. How did that happen? I mean, other than the severe cold creating a perfect breeding ground for it. However, I had skipped a lot of the symptoms. I never had a fever, or wheezing. I think I actually did have difficulty breathing one night, but it kind of got mixed up with this weird dream that seems to have been inspired by a commercial for "Once Upon A Time", so I'm not actually sure what happened there.

The doctor said she was going to write me a prescription for some antibiotics, and mentally I am thinking, That's it? I think I was still on edge from how little I came away with from the last appointment, and how badly that turned out. Also, okay, the antibiotics will get the pneumonia but what about the cold? I just asked if there was anything I should be looking for or doing, and she said I should feel better, but if not to come back in.

It started to sink in on the way to the pharmacy. I had something treatable, and this was going to work. I was still in some emotional turmoil.

I have to say, it was beautiful how quickly the Azithromycin worked. I started feeling better within a few hours. I still was not able to lie down Saturday night, but I could for a few hours Sunday morning, and that felt wonderful. The cold was still there, and even now, a bit over two weeks, there are some lingering effects, but when you can't sleep because you feel like you will drown if you lie down, what would feel bad under normal circumstances feels freaking fantastic. For the first few days I felt like I should be writing love songs to the Z-Max 5-pack.

Now I am just on the slow road to getting better. Monday I took one more day off to recuperate. Wednesday was my first night going into deep sleep (that was also a big one). Yesterday I took a walk on my lunch break--the first time I really felt like going outside. (I am writing this on Wednesday, December 14th.) There are a lot of things I have had to let slide, and I burned through all my sick time, but most of all, I have to remember to take care of my health. I used to be able to get away with ignoring a lot, and that just won't fly anymore. Old person now, but it is probably better to be health-conscious anyway.