In January of 2013, I caught the flu. Not the stomach flu–the actual coughing, body-aching, head-throbbing, fever-filled flu. I had never had it before, and was shocked at how miserable I felt. In truth, I had been sick most of the winter–it seemed I went from one bad cold to the next. I had never had to rely on an alarm clock, but now I needed one each day to rouse me from a dead sleep. By 2pm, I was done for the day, coming up with some lame excuse to stop work early day after day. Even drinking coffee all day didn’t help. I could drink coffee with dinner and still fall asleep on the couch by 7pm–not making it up to bed until sometime in the middle of the night.
In January, my mom, who had been living many hours away called and asked that I come and pick her up immediately. She and my brother had had a confrontation, and she was ready to move back home. I had to tell her no. I was embarrassed–I was literally too sick to make the drive–This was honestly the first time in my life I can remember having a fever. I knew that I was too weak to drive. I gave myself a day to recover before I made the nine hour drive to retrieve her and her belongings.
The strange thing is, that at the time, I did not even realize that this was not normal. That a 45-year-old woman should not be falling asleep every night at 7pm; that I should have been able to work and take care of dinner and do the running necessary for the kids.
To be continued. . .