I've been away from HIVE for around a week and a half. Perhaps even longer. It becomes troublesome to keep track when your mind feels like it's in a fog. While I never made much use of social media in terms of posting what is going on in my life, I do appreciate the social side and connections made here on HIVE. With that in mind, I created this post.
I started writing this post yesterday, but I never finished it. I went back today to proofread and stared at the 800 word long nonsensical ramblings of someone still clearly not out of that brain fog.
I do not claim to be out of said brain fog today, but I will try organising my ramblings to be slightly more coherent before posting.
The saying that you don't appreciate what you have until you don't have it, holds a lot of truth. For the first time in years, I picked up a bug. By bug, I mean cold or flu. Stomach bugs do not count, as those usually last a day or two with me at most.
I battled with blocked sinus a lot this year. This led to a sinus drip, placing my immune system under pressure. In combination with everyday stresses, it lowered my body defenses enough for an infection to take hold.
It started as a dry scratchy cough one evening. When I woke up the following morning, it felt as though someone had a go at my throat with a cheese grater. The symptoms got worse and more numerous over the next few days. A runny nose, phlegm, and severe coughing fits made sleeping extremely challenging.
Normally, when I feel an infection coming on, I support my body as best as possible and it usually manages to fight off the invaders on its own. Unfortunately, this time around, it was not enough on its own. The symptoms never improved, only shifted at best. After a week, it was clear that I needed additional support, at least it was to my family. They insisted I go to see our doctor.
I did visit the doctor, who had me undergo a COVID test to allow for a better diagnosis. The result was negative. Not a big surprise, as the symptoms did not align. Still, interesting that I have managed to avoid catching it thus far, despite exposure.
What the doctor told me next was less than comforting. According to him, I looked worse than most of the patients he has seen who were infected with COVID. I had picked up bronchitis, with a secondary infection, one that was spreading back up into my sinus and ear canals.
The doctor prescribed antibiotics as my immune system needed some help to fight the infections. antibiotics. It is a Penicillin based course. What a difference one accidental discovery in 1928 had made. Even now, it is having a direct impact on my life. After the second day on the antibiotics, I could finally start to feel a difference. The brain fog I had been in was slowly starting to lift. I also managed to get a full 5 hours of consecutive sleep for the first time in a week.
Would I have gotten better without the antibiotics? Quite likely, but it would have taken a lot longer. And by then, the sleep deprivation would have had a much worse impact. Not only on me but my poor husband! It would have prolonged the situation in a vicious cycle of a weakened immune system, struggling to combat infections and secondary infections.
I completed the antibiotics course this morning, but we have not won the war yet. We have, however, made excellent progress. But I also realise that if I want to keep making progress, I have to be kind to myself. I cannot immediately expect my body to be okay with me jumping straight back into life as if nothing was amiss.
This point was very obvious when I tackled some basic house chores. Just hanging the washing up had me out of breath and threatening another coughing fit. Slow and steady wins the race. It's okay to do a few things, but I have to listen to my body and accept when it decides that I cannot continue. This is unfortunately not something I am very good at, but it is vitally important in my current state!
I know that if I push too hard, I could very well end up back where I started and have an even longer road to full recovery. So as much as I want to get back to doing things, it is more important to respect my body's wish for downtime.
When I first came down with bronchitis, my instinct was to protect my husband from catching it as much as I could. Sadly, we live in a very tiny space, so isolation from each other is impossible. Instead, I tried to keep myself limited to spaces that I knew he wouldn't be spending time at, like my desk.
I also became very aware of my coughing, making sure to cough only into my elbow area. If a cough caught me unaware and I used my hand, I would be sure to sanitize and wash immediately. I am still in the process of washing the clothing and pajamas I spent most of my time in, getting them to hang in the natural sunlight as long as possible to help disinfect.
My biggest worry was interrupting his sleep at night. I would get coughing fits that would wake me up. They were so violent and loud, shaking the bed and waking him as well. I tried sleeping on the couch, he tried sleeping on the couch. Unfortunately, the coughing (and sleep talk from lack of air) was so loud on my part that it kept him awake through the wall.
Eventually, what appeared to work best, was my sleeping in an upright sitting position. It prevented the worst of the coughing from happening and from mucus from clogging the airways because of lying down. Finally, we began getting a few decent hours of sleep in a night again. What a difference that made.
Bronchitis had me feeling so terrible that aside from trying to feel better and trying not to be a nuisance, I was oblivious to everything else. I hardly knew what day or time it was. I was barely aware time was passing at all. Everything felt like one giant blur of coughing and trying to catch a few moments of uninterrupted sleep.
I sent my husband out to spend some time with our friends one evening, figuring he needed a nice evening out. And it was when he returned that night I realised just how much he was worried about me. Another thing I was oblivious to.
How did I realise it? Well, he came home with a giant blue elephant plush, that has a blanket in a zipper installed on its stomach. I was so completely shocked I had no words for several minutes. When I asked what on earth was going on, it then hit. He wanted to cuddle me to make me feel better, but I had been avoiding him because I didn't want to infect him. So he acquired a cuddle substitute (I will deny having become overly emotional at receiving this gift. I am a grown woman after all).
My fluffy soft new friend, Blueberry sitting on my pillow, so you can see exactly how huge he is.
Blueberry, as he has been named, is a wonderful cuddle buddy. Not to mention makes for great additional support while trying to sleep upright. My wonderful husband has also been a busy bee in the kitchen, ensuring that I continue to get decent food into my system. Ladies, there is nothing as fantastic as a man who can make a good meal. Then again, I suppose at least one of us has to be able to and it sure isn't me. By the way, yes, I did warn him of my kitchen handicap before he proposed.
As I mentioned already, I know it might take some time to fully recover. It has, however, gotten me thinking about what I can potentially do to better my health in the long run, not only for myself but for my loved ones. I have never been super health-conscious, but I do try to make good choices most of the time. What I am noticing though, is the older one gets, the less you can get away with as far as your health goes. So it might be time for me to look at things a little more seriously.
There may be a second post on this, or there may not. We will have to see what my body and brain allow.
Thank you to everyone who is following me and who has stopped by to read my ramblings. As always, your time and support are always appreciated!
Also, thank you to spell checking apps, for, without them, this post would have been even more incoherent.
