Ah, a few days off for the holiday and then some vacation thrown in. I felt a little ill the two days before Thanksgiving, but it never really came to anything. Then after driving 300 miles and eating two Thanksgiving dinners, I felt nauseous Thursday night. Well, it was a lot of food and travel, so surely it’ll pass.
Four days later, it’s still trying to pass. I have had days of chills, fever, aches, nausea, intestinal gurgling and cramping, more trips to the bathroom than I can count, and even hives. This thing won’t go away. I was able to get out of bed after a few days, but the lower-GI problems are still going strong.
No one else around me got sick (David was too afraid to visit me to make that much of a risk–chicken!), but then my old roommate from high school called this morning and guess what? She has it too. This pinpoints our contraction of the nasty bug to the Friday night before Thanksgiving in a window of a few hours of time, the only time she and I were together. I thought she must’ve gotten it on the plane, but David pointed out that the three of us shook the hand of a panhandler in the doorway of the restaurant and while David then washed his hands before we ate, Deb and I did not. I’m a fan of washing up before I leave the house, not using restaurant bathrooms (just touching the door handles creeps me out). I didn’t think much about it at the time. I guess I take my immune system for granted.
This thing has quite the incubation since the really acute symptoms didn’t begin for a full six days after Deb and I saw each other. It’s now four days later and I’m still hanging out near bathrooms, although the parts of the illness that made me want to die really only lasted for the first couple of days.
I made it out into the world today (after taking Immodium), but came hurrying home to my toilet. And I’m just wiped out. Deb and I actually lost weight over the Thanksgiving holiday. Go figure.
Everyone who ate with me on Thanksgiving: you should know by Wednesday night if you’ll live.