Because I have the fluuuuuuuuuuuu. *moan, whimper*
Patrick got sent home from school on Friday and we thought it was just a cold with a fever, though he did complain of a headache. He slept a lot all weekend and didn't eat much, and though his fever finally went away on Sunday, we kept him home yesterday to be sure he was fever-free for 24 hours before going back to school. Jason got it the same day as Patrick. At that point, we still thought it was a cold with a fever. Not me, though. I stayed healthy all weekend until yesterday, right at the beginning of the work week and on my 30th birthday. I woke up feeling meh and by 10 a.m., it was all I could do to sit on the couch with Patrick and watch Super Why. I took him with me to office hours and then Jason picked him up while I taught my lab in the afternoon. By the time I got home, I seriously felt like dying might be a better alternative to living and feeling like this. Even the black spray-painted roses that Siobhan and Aaron (Thanks, seestor. Really, I mean it.) sent didn't make me feel better.
I was in bed by 6 p.m. and stayed there with my 102.3 degree fever (it went up to 103 at one point). I had a horrible night's sleep--up every couple of hours, thirsty, coughing so much that I was gagging, feverish and either sweating or freezing. It was miserable. When I woke up, my fever was down to 101--then again, temps are always lower in the mornings. I have a lecture to give today and a lab, in which I will infect many more people. I hate having to be in like this but since it's college, either I'm here or we cancel class and they don't get a chance to make it up. Since they have to learn to use the microscopes today, it's kind of an important lab.
Blurgh. I'm at my desk sweating and shivering, even though I've already taken Ty.lenol. One of the nursing people took one look at me and said "Go home. Go home now." Would that I could.
Work ethics suck. And 30 is not exactly starting out well, either.