ill (not the good kind)
25 January 2011
Wait, I have to mention something about how incredibly sick I was about two weeks ago.
At 1pm on Thursday (January 6), my world was right: the day was half over, and my plan after work was to get a haircut, pick some some of my favorite Thai food (Spice/Sea Thai in the East Village, which I hadn’t had since moving out of the LES a few weeks back), and then head back to my empty Brooklyn apartment and gloriously and repeatedly manipulate my genital to ejaculation while watching strangers have sex on my computer, as my girlfriend had left that very morning for a ten day work trip of the West Coast. Yes, some serious Uncle Jason time was in order.
Instead, by 3pm, I was in a car, headed home with no haircut and no Thai food, because I was feeling so ill that I had to leave work immediately.
Thus began a six-day saga that was the worst illness of my life. I’m not being dramatic here – I’m the nerd who had perfect attendance in grade school and still brings this up at parties (and, obviously, in blog posts). I never get sick. Well, not “never,” but when I get sick it’s usually because I’m hungover or because of a 24 hour bug or because I more or less treat my body, specifically my intestines and colon, like a Dumpster.
But this was none of those things. It started with a mild cough on Wednesday night that I thought nothing of, but it came on like a tsunami at work the following work – more coughing, chills, sweats, exhaustion, etc. I just had never felt so whupped before, and so suddenly.
I emailed my manager, telling him that I might have to leave and work from home, and he asked that I hold on, telling me he’d be back in the office shortly (he was at lunch). I waited and when he came back he explained that within ten minutes of my email, he got an email from my colleague who sits in the office next to mine saying the same exact thing. It was like mother fucking Outbreak in that building. (The next day, four of my colleagues, all of whom sit around my office, called out sick.)
And thus I was sick on Thursday. And Friday (which was worse, so bad I couldn’t even read, because I was unable to focus). And Saturday (when I made my first venture out of the apartment, to the grocery store two blocks away, where I had to take a break in the middle of shopping for chicken soup and Gatorade to lean on the ice cream case, because I felt like I was going to faint). And Sunday (when the Eagles loss was almost ok with me, because I was practically delirious). And Monday (when I called out sick but worked from home, because if I didn’t do something productive, I was going to lose my mind). I went back to work on Tuesday, but even then, I wasn’t feeling great. Still, I toughed it out, and by the time I left for Vegas the following Thursday night, a week after initially feeling sick, I was probably up to 90% better.
So the first test of 2011 was a monster illness, which, thankfully, I have survived. Here’s hoping for a little less sickness – and while we’re at it, a little less goddamned snow – for the rest of the year.
At 1pm on Thursday (January 6), my world was right: the day was half over, and my plan after work was to get a haircut, pick some some of my favorite Thai food (Spice/Sea Thai in the East Village, which I hadn’t had since moving out of the LES a few weeks back), and then head back to my empty Brooklyn apartment and gloriously and repeatedly manipulate my genital to ejaculation while watching strangers have sex on my computer, as my girlfriend had left that very morning for a ten day work trip of the West Coast. Yes, some serious Uncle Jason time was in order.
Instead, by 3pm, I was in a car, headed home with no haircut and no Thai food, because I was feeling so ill that I had to leave work immediately.
Thus began a six-day saga that was the worst illness of my life. I’m not being dramatic here – I’m the nerd who had perfect attendance in grade school and still brings this up at parties (and, obviously, in blog posts). I never get sick. Well, not “never,” but when I get sick it’s usually because I’m hungover or because of a 24 hour bug or because I more or less treat my body, specifically my intestines and colon, like a Dumpster.
But this was none of those things. It started with a mild cough on Wednesday night that I thought nothing of, but it came on like a tsunami at work the following work – more coughing, chills, sweats, exhaustion, etc. I just had never felt so whupped before, and so suddenly.
I emailed my manager, telling him that I might have to leave and work from home, and he asked that I hold on, telling me he’d be back in the office shortly (he was at lunch). I waited and when he came back he explained that within ten minutes of my email, he got an email from my colleague who sits in the office next to mine saying the same exact thing. It was like mother fucking Outbreak in that building. (The next day, four of my colleagues, all of whom sit around my office, called out sick.)
And thus I was sick on Thursday. And Friday (which was worse, so bad I couldn’t even read, because I was unable to focus). And Saturday (when I made my first venture out of the apartment, to the grocery store two blocks away, where I had to take a break in the middle of shopping for chicken soup and Gatorade to lean on the ice cream case, because I felt like I was going to faint). And Sunday (when the Eagles loss was almost ok with me, because I was practically delirious). And Monday (when I called out sick but worked from home, because if I didn’t do something productive, I was going to lose my mind). I went back to work on Tuesday, but even then, I wasn’t feeling great. Still, I toughed it out, and by the time I left for Vegas the following Thursday night, a week after initially feeling sick, I was probably up to 90% better.
So the first test of 2011 was a monster illness, which, thankfully, I have survived. Here’s hoping for a little less sickness – and while we’re at it, a little less goddamned snow – for the rest of the year.
