On Saturday morning, I slept until the light was streaming through the windows of my sick room. I'd woken up many times due to sliding down my steeply elevated bed until my feet were dangling off the edge. Each time, I squinted against the light and remembered my friend Pam's admonition to stay hydrated. "I should drink some water," I'd think. But then I'd climb back to the top of the bed and sink back into sleep.
I finally opened my eyes a little after 10, more than 14 hours since I'd gone to bed. When I sat up, I was overwhelmed with weakness. I finished off the last five swallows in my stainless steel cup and breathed deeply for a minute or two, legs dangling off the side of the bed.
At last I stepped into my slippers and shuffled across the house to my bathroom. Sitting on the toilet, I was seized with vertigo, and my heart thumped in alarm. I'd forgotten to bring my phone with me, and I didn't want to end up like the poor old woman in the Life Alert commercial who says, "Help! I've fallen and I can't get up."
As I leaned against the wall and waited for it to pass, I realized what must be wrong with me. I'd gone too long without drinking anything, especially since I'd had a fever when I went to sleep. I just needed to make it to the kitchen and drink some coconut water.
I slowly rose to my feet, only to collapse onto my hands and knees. Uninjured, I knelt with my forehead on the tile for a couple of minutes, then pulled my pants up and stumbled to the sink to wash my hands.
I made it as far as the living room before I started to see stars. Literally blind, I shuffled to where I knew the chair must be and fell into it. Now I was wondering if I'd need to go to the ER for an IV, like my friend Pam's brother-in-law when he had Covid and forgot to drink fluids.
I figured all I needed was to get some water down. Aside from the weakness and vertigo, my symptoms actually seemed better than the day before. After resting a few minutes on the chair, I was able to walk to the kitchen without incident. I sat at the table for a couple more minutes and then poured myself some water and some cold cereal with homemade cashew milk.
I was too nauseated to eat much, but I felt a little stronger after my meager breakfast. My blood pressure was terribly low at 65/48, so I carefully returned to bed. There, I sipped water and napped through the day, along with both of my cats. Arwen seemed content to nest between my calves, while CiCi was a comforting, squishy weight on my belly.
In the afternoon, Ethan picked up some food for us at Panera Bread, plus some Puffs Plus tissues. The chicken soup was salty and very delicious. This was the first meal I'd enjoyed in four days. I was also blessed by my friend Pam's husband, who picked up a new charger cable for my phone after CiCi chewed the old one up. I was so grateful not to be out of communication.
By 6 p.m., my blood pressure was 88/61, not too far off my usual normal. (Due to my hypothyroidism, my blood pressure is usually 90-something over 60-something.)
That evening, I had enough energy to feed the cats and clean the litter boxes with some help from Allyson. After that, we watched a movie together. That was a nice break from the boredom.
All in all, it wasn't a bad day.
P.S. Please learn from my mistake. If you get sick with Covid-19 or the flu, don't let yourself sleep too long without drinking any fluids.
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Vitals: 65/48, 77 beats per minute; 88/61, 86 bpm. Temperature: 99.3 to 99.5
Symptoms: low-grade fever, headache, mild nausea, vertigo, fatigue, mild nasal congestion, mild sore throat
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