Not dead yet
But I sure feel like it
Last weekend (March 21-22) was the first spring series regatta for the Rio Grande Sailing Club. Winds for the weekend were mostly brisk, sometimes stiff. I had Penzance on Black Magic on helm, with me, Pat, and Cornhusker as crew. We didn't win any races, but we were in the running on all of them, and on one we came in a very close second to Zorro – we were ahead for most of the race, and only a random wind shift at the end allowed him to edge us out.
I came out of that weekend rather the worse for wear, with bruises on top of bruises and lots of muscle aches.
By Tuesday, I was feeling even more muscle aches, and I realized I was coming down with something. In addition to being achy, I was starting to develop a cough. Oh, no, I thought, not The Cough … the one that settles in and lingers, making life miserable for days, weeks even.
By Wednesday night, it became clear that, yes, I was coming down with The Cough. In addition to serious head congestion and fever, I was suffering a dry, racking cough that would not give me peace. I let my night class out early, and I headed home, stopping to pick up some extra-strength cough-suppressant/expectorant syrup. I dosed up with that, a heavy-duty analgesic, and some maximum strength decongestant. I also started downing herbal teas containing slippery elm, thyme, and other such good stuff. I settled into bed with a warm cat, with the bedroom humidifier on full blast.
All of these measures helped to make the cough less miserable, but still, I was coughing so hard my ribs were aching. I stayed in bed most of Thursday, and by the time of my Thursday night class, I was feeling a bit better.
There's something going around … only two students showed up, so I cancelled class. Pat, Dulce, and I headed north to spend at least the first part of the weekend at Five O'Clock Somewhere. He had a community center board meeting scheduled for today, although he also wanted to get back to Albuquerque this evening and then go to the Butte Sunday to work on boats and sail with Zorro, Penzance, and Ribbons.
From Santa Fe on, we were driving through blowing snow; by the time we got to the cabin, there was an inch or two on the ground, and the temperature was 19 degrees. We worked on getting the house warmed up, and I checked that we had a good supply of the medicinal teas.
Since then, I have spent most of my time either in bed or in front of the fireplace, guzzling tea and keeping myself dosed up on the conventional medicines. My throat is sore, my head feels like it's full of wool, my ribs ache, I can barely eat, and all the sleep I can get is cat-naps between coughing fits.
I suppose I could go to a doctor. But I'm pretty sure all the doctor could tell me is that this is a virus, and the thing to do is just what I've been doing. Without any health insurance, all a doctor visit would be is an expensive way to get a note that would allow me to take sick leave.
Maybe I should ask fuego what his Czech mother-in-law would prescribe. The Czechs have two powerful spirits, Becherovka and Slivovice, and one or the other of those is supposed to be good for whatever ails one.