Sunday and Monday. I have the deads. Much time spent being uncomfortable in bed or miserable on the couch. Faking consciousness. Begging for razors to be removed from my throat. Hating the sister.
Tuesday. Not quite dead. Can hold a conversation without fading into space. Box of Kleenex is my best friend. Faking interest in humanity. More sleep.
Today. I have a pulse. Am occasionally able to breathe through my nose without having a coughing fit. No fever. To celebrate, I go for a walk–outside. After: nap. Ate an actual meal!
Tomorrow. I anticipate more long naps, stronger attention span, and something deliciously spicy.