Here but not here

Saturday night busy with stuff, forgot to cook dinner, ate some chilli rice crackers while watching Shawshank Redemption. Great film. Went to bed. Woke with churning stomach and had to run to get to the bathroom to throw up. And again. And again later. Spent Sunday in great agony, in bed, drifting from sleep to listening to the voices on the TV, to becoming aware of the telephone ringing and having strange disjointed conversations with people. Getting downstairs to get water felt like a test. Cold and hot. Shivers and sweats. Still hard to get up, felt pummelled inside and out. Felt bruised from the bed, couldn't find comfortable positions for my arms but couldn't stay upright for longer than five minutes. Could make more comprehensive conversation while laying down.

Finally Tuesday arrived. One last night sweat and it seemed to be over. Carefully reintroducing food. Legs felt hollow. But the delirium has gone. And the aching stomach and limbs. What a relief. There were times when it had felt never ending, day and night rolling together, endless hours, unable to get comfortable in or out of bed.