What's the worst you ever felt?
I'm talking from a sickness perspective. Did you ever just get walloped by Old Man Fever and you were down for the count, at least for a few days?
It's certainly not the worst I've felt, but I must've caught something at the end of last weekend. And let me stop you right there - don't worry, it ain't COVID, I've tested several times and came up negative every time. No, I must have caught some low-end bug from someone when Brendon and I went up to the WWE show in Saskatoon on October 2.
Went to the show, had a great time, then went and grabbed something to eat at the Goblin Grill before heading home. I was totally fine all evening, but Monday morning I woke up and just had that "icky" feeling, ya know? That feeling where it feels like a good hot shower will be the only remedy you need, but we both know that's not true.
Well, I had that hot shower, and I felt a little better, but the damn bug decided to stay with me. I got through Monday okay, and I concentrated on making Tuesday and Wednesday my recovery days. By the time Thursday arrived, I had a noticeable frog in my throat, dropping the octave of my voice by a few levels. No, I hadn't achieved a Barry White level of deep, sultry smoothness, but it was still a decidedly different tone coming from ole D.W.
By this past weekend, I was feeling a lot better than I was at the beginning of the week, that's for sure. When it comes to those stubborn bugs that you just can't escape, the only things that will get rid of them are fluids and time. Specifically, a lot of pure orange juice, some Gatorade, and a swig of some Vick's cough syrup here and there. Aside from that, it's just a waiting game. I woke up every day feeling a little bit looser in the chest cavity, meaning things were breaking up and leaving my body, and my sinuses were clearing up. As I type this, I'd say I'm about 90% recovered. Again, sometimes it's just a waiting game.
It makes me remember some of the other times in my life when I was a lot more worse off and I was just as sick as a dog.
It makes me remember the time when I was very young, maybe 5 or 6 years of age, and I was in the hospital because I was having my tonsils removed. My mom was there with me seemingly every minute of every day, and the dedication that woman showed during that time is remarkable to think of today. I didn't feel alone for a second. I can remember before the surgery and I can remember after the surgery, when I was spoiled with basically anything I wanted to eat, at which point I received suppers consisting of Chef Boyardee and toast followed by ice cream. Mom was right there beside me every step of the way as I recovered, and I don't remember a time when she wasn't there. No matter how many times I wanted to sit and watch 'The Land Before Time', she was up for it and she made it happen for me. Man, I miss that woman like crazy every single day.
As I got older, those sick days became a little more memorable and stood out more because, to be perfectly honest, it's always taken a lot to get me sick. But I guess in those times where I actually DO get sick, the bugger likes to stick around and really leave a mark.
I remember being really ill at Christmastime in 2002, so much so that I made myself basically a recluse in the basement, armed with cough drops, Vicks vaporub, and lots of fluids. The funny thing is that all my life, I was usually one of the first people in the house to be up and awake on Christmas morning. That year, however, I was happy to still be asleep downstairs when everyone else was up and at 'em upstairs. The gifts could wait, the goodies in the stocking weren't going anywhere, and for the first time ever, a rich and filling turkey supper was the last thing I was thinking about.
When I really stop and think about it, I think the last time I was truly sick must have been maybe 5-6 years ago, maybe even longer. I was in Swift Current one particular weekend, visiting my buddy Kyle who lived there at the time. We discussed what we wanted to do for supper, and he suggested ordering in from a local pizza joint. Hey, sounded good to me. We ordered a pepperoni pie and a chicken one, and dug in while we put a movie on. Tasted just fine and we enjoyed a few more movies before I decided to hit the road for home. All was good until I got on the highway leading out of the city. The city of Swift Current was juuuuust about behind me as I got going up the hill-like terrain, leaving the lights of Speedy Creek behind me.
And that's when it hit. That churning feeling in my stomach, that queasy feeling where it feels like all the blood in your body is getting rushed to your head. I think I had about 4-5 seconds before it was going to happen, but I managed to make it. I quickly got my vehicle pulled over on the side of the road and I got my window pulled down, simply because that was all I could do at the moment. And here it came. My supper from hours earlier, exiting my mouth and making its new home on the side of the highway at about 1:00 am in the morning. I just felt awful. I wish I could say that I was able to relax after that, but I couldn't because for one, that sick feeling wasn't going away anytime soon and two, I still had about a 2.5 hour drive ahead of me. Let's just say that it wasn't a very fun drive.
The feelings that come with being sick just aren't good ones. As you get older, though, they become much more manageable.
Still, I'm sure I'm not the only one who wishes Mom was still around when the flu bug comes calling.
For this week, that's been the Ruttle Report.