I was already sore by the time I got home from the farm two days ago, but other than that, I was feeling good. A hard days work picking and planting stuff - clearing out an entire pumpkin patch (food pumpkins, not the jack-o-lantern kind). Luckily, I had remember to put a beer in the fridge before I left that morning, so it was nicely chilled. I knew something was wrong however, when I was unable to even finish half of it.
As difficult as throwing away half a can of beer is, the stomach pain scared me so I opted to just lie down and, being the masochist that I am, enjoy the occasional cold sweat and heightened sensitivity over my entire body... so much so that even covering up with a sheet caused me immense discomfort.
The night passed without incident.
Friday 07:30 - I wake up to Tomoe's alarm, planning to get up and have breakfast with her as usual, but after getting up for a drink and realizing how sore and unusually weak I am, I opt to go back to bed. She's in a hurry anyway, and times like this it's safer for me to stay out of her way.
10:30 - Somehow I had fallen asleep again until 10:30, which is rather unusual considering I slept so much the night before. It takes me another half-hour to muster the strength needed to prepare a piece of bread and jam, let the birds out, and move to my desk and check my email.
11:30 - I feel a slight pressure in my abdomen. Morning poop seems to be calling. I won't go into details but it was not pretty. What's more, it seems to have left me drained of all energy (although it was not an exceptionally difficult delivery).
11:40 - After having rested a bit, I decide to move back to bed for little nap. I make it about four feet from the bathroom door when the room starts to fade around me. It's not spinning, as happens in the movies, but I know that I am about to faint so I opt to lie down of my own accord.
11:45 - Morning poop Jr. seems to be calling. This time however, I decide that I need a plan. I see a blue bucket atop the washing machine next to the bathroom. Although I don't feel sick in a puky sort of way, I think it might be a good idea to have it near me. The plan goes as follows, and I was able to execute it flawlessly.
Step 1) Crawl on my stomach toward the washing machine in order to conserve energy.
Step 2) Climb to my knees so I can just reach the bucket and knock it to the floor.
Step 3) Rest.
Step 4) Gather all my strength, pulling myself into a sitting position on the toilet.
Step 5) Wait and see...
11:50 - This time is equally as disturbing, equally exhausting, but is followed by cold sweats (somewhat enjoyable)
12:00 - Time to make a new plan. A simple plan, but perhaps the most important plan of the day. I must somehow get my weakened, faint, shivering, sweating body into the bed, two rooms away. I grab the bucket and run, feeing the dizziness just as I enter the room with the bed.
The human body is capable of much more than we often think. Somehow, against all odds, I was able to take the two extra steps needed to collapse into the soft, waiting bed. Within seconds the worst (or best) of the sweats begin and within minutes I am drifting in and out of consciousness.
13:30 - I am awaken by a sharp pain in my foot. The birds are still out and Klee has found a scab to pick at. Awii is taking advantage of my weakened state to chew a hole in the tatami-mat floor, stopping only to laugh at me as I manage to croak out "Awii, get away from there."
Realizing there is no way I will be able to catch them, all I can do is to kick Klee away from my bloody foot and hide it under the sheet. Over the next hour and a half I will drift into restful sleep only to be awakened by Klee's incessant picking each time my foot finds it's way out from under the covers.
15:00 - I am awakened this time not by klee, nor the sound of wallpaper being picked and peeled (living with the birds our ears have become attuned to the slightest sound of anything being picked at), but rather, to the strange absence of any such sound. At first, a flash of panic almost gives me enough strength to bolt upright, remembering the last time I heard such an ominous silence was a few years ago when Guri (the blue parakeet in the top left corner of this site) managed to escape out a window.
I managed to turn my head to survey the room only to find that Awii and Klee and returned to their cage of their own accord. It's time for another mission.
Aided by my lack of energy, I lie quietly, careful not to make any sound that will alert them to the fact that I am awake. It was my corpse like stillness that caused them to return the to cage bored, and once they realize there is someone in the apartment to antagonize, they will move toward the door of the cage with lightning speed.
15:10 - For ten minutes I have been surveying the path between the bed and the cage, making meticulous note of any obstacles that may trip me up, giving them even a tenth of a second advantage in the race toward the cage door.
15:11 - The cage is closed, and I stumble back to bed, feeling a bit better, and confident that I will be able to move the computer from the desk to a chair near the bed.
15:20 - After three round trips from bed to desk and back, with short rests in-between, I am back online. The first order of business it to let Tomoe know what is going on, giving her a heads up that I have not managed to clean the kitchen as promised, in fact, there is now a rotting pot of miso soup stranded on the stove.
The rest of the day is pretty boring. Other than Tomoe telling me that once when she had similar symptoms she had to spend two weeks in the hospital, and that she had heard that such dizziness can cause deafness (when I almost passed out earlier I did in fact experience a little "stuffiness" in my ears"). I was actually feeling better now. Although I still felt faint when I stood up, lying in bed and surfing the web was not problem.
This morning, I feel a little weak, but I think this has more to do with not having eaten yesterday and having spent the entire day in bed.
There's something great about being sick like that. Laying there helplessly sweating, shivering, even puking, imagining your body at war with some evil intruder. I'm almost sorry the battle is ending so quickly. But, my biggest concern now is that I whatever has invaded my body may not be fully gone by tomorrow when we are scheduled to work on the farm again.