Well, THAT was fun ...

... except it wasn't.

A week ago Thursday I woke up in the middle of the night with a bit of a sore throat. Uh oh ... here we go.

I called the coffee shop early in the morning to let them know I wouldn't be there--no need to save "my" table for me.

And then proceeded to get worse and worse and worse and ...

Deep congestion. Low-grade fever. Nausea. Dizziness.

Of course, all this "worsening" occurred on the weekend: doctors' offices closed. So I resolved to "hang on" until the Dawn of a New Day.

Mistake.

By Monday I could not eat or drink anything without ... consequence. I was incredibly weak, could barely get out of bed when I needed to. On my feet, I was woozy, unstable.

(Why didn't we call the doctor? I still thought I would just, you know, get better. I always have ....)

Early Tuesday morning (about 4) I had to get up--nausea. Joyce, who'd moved to the back bedroom, could not hear my weak cries for help. So I crawled back to the bed and somehow found the strength to pull myself into it.

I woke two hours later and told Joyce this was it.

She called my doctor, got an 11 a.m. appointment with the NP, who took one look at me and told me I was completely dehydrated and said I needed to go up to Twinsburg, to the ER there (associated with University Hospitals), and start infusions.

The EMS vehicle came, loaded me in the back (where I promptly ... lost it), and off we zoomed to Twinsburg, where I lay in a room most of the afternoon (with Joyce at hand) while fluids dripped into me. They also did a flu test (nope) and a chest X-ray (not pneumonia).

We got home a little after 5, and I felt halfway decent for the first time in ... a long time. Forever, it seemed.

But the congestion/coughing lingered on and on. And so I didn't want to go out in public to "share" my condition with others.

This past weekend things finally improved. I still have a bit of congestion (nothing like what it was), but I have bursts of energy; I can eat and drink; I even drove the car early Sunday evening (over to the Aurora McD's for Diet Cokes with Joyce).

At home, I was able--finally!--to read from my bedside stack of books.

Hope is the thing with feathers ...

This morning, I rose at my usual time (5:40--no alarm necessary), walked over to the coffee shop, did my readin'-and-writing', walked home, feeling stronger and more confident with every step.

And so ... here I sit, writing the first blog post I've done in a couple of weeks--the first I've been able to do. (I'd also suspended my Daily Doggerel blog--but did a post there this a.m.)

And I'm feeling moderately hopeful. Colds/infections have not ever knocked me down for as long as this one did. I'm hoping it's an anomaly, not a preview of coming attractions!