It was bound to happen eventually. Just as I was congratulating myself on avoiding two rounds of illness in the US before I left and a nasty office-wide bout with the flu the first couple of weeks after I got here, it struck. The plague! EWWW!!
I shouldn't make plague jokes in light of the recent bird flu excitement. I have to admit though, as I was sprawled on the couch yesterday and the news was breaking on CNN of new cases of bird flu detected in Germany, Austria and other nearby countries, that my occasionally sinister mind started wandering to an old favorite book, Stephen King's The Stand, and I was hoping that his concept remained exactly that.
I started to feel a little off on Tuesday. I tried to stave it off by taking "No Time for Colds" but to no avail. By the end of the day I was sneezing up a storm, feeling achy and fevery and I went home and crawled into bed. I didn't even hear the phone ringing as M. was trying to call to say goodnight.
The next morning I awoke to the phone ringing. M. was calling because he was worried after not hearing from me the night before. I could tell as I was talking to him that the most significant accomplishment I would make that day was getting out of bed.
I called in sick to work and hoped that with a day off I could make a power recovery. Sleep, drink plenty of fluids, eat a bunch of oranges and feel better the next day. I woke up around noon and realized there would be no such luck so I headed down the street to the Apotheke to get some help.
Pharmacies in Switzerland and Germany are different than those in the US. You can't just walk down the aisles knocking whatever products of dubious claims you want into your basket. You have to consult the pharmacist for advice. Fortunately mine spoke English and I was sent on my way with the Swiss equivalent of Thera Flu.
I spent the rest of the day in a cold medicine induced haze, watching the Olympics women's downhill and men's moguls competitions in Italian. I have no idea what they were saying but wasn't worried about it at all. I'm sure it is the same drivel as you hear from all sportscasters and I think I was asleep for most of it anyway.
By the end of the day, the coffee table was covered with cups and tissues, orange peels and half read magazines, like the battleground of some strange war. I think being sick for the first time in a foreign place gives you and idea of your comfort level with the environment. Nothing makes you cry out for home like being curled up in a helpless ball in your bed. I have to admit I never felt alone through this. M. checked in throughout the day, as did his parents. Some of my coworkers also called to see if they could help. Even though I knew I just needed a lot of rest, it was comforting to have people looking out for me.
Now I'm looking forward to making a full recovery over the weekend. It'll be a quiet one with M. if it's up to me!Posted From Basel