Finally actually awake…

Finally actually awake and better, I think. I was doing okay for a few hours yesterday, but then took a turn for the worse again, and had a bad night. But right now I feel fine, if quite empty. The scale claims I've lost two pounds in the last two days, but somehow I don't think that'll last. :-) Food now -- toast and tea, I think. Kevin picked up some applesauce for me last night, so that'll probably be next on the list. And maybe I'll make jello.

Hopefully by tomorrow I'll be actually well, rather than convalescent.

It's been a long time since I've been sick for so many days at in a row -- there was a period in college when I was sick for several days, but I don't really remember the experience, other than my then-boyfriend climbing into the insanely-narrow bed and holding me during the worst of it, and my weighing an astonishing 118 pounds at the end of it. :-)

Yesterday I was reminded of those long passages in 18th and 19th century novels when people would be horribly sick for months. Those passages seem much more viscerally real to me now. When you're really sick, you quickly come to a point where you want to say okay, enough, I can't cope anymore. I'm pretty sure I said that to Kevin at one point, actually. You're so weak, and you just feel completely beaten down. But of course, this isn't some endurance course you opted into -- you have no choice but to continue coping, as best you can, until the illness chooses to let you go.

I'm really not very good at coping with involuntary suffering.