Sick at Home on a Holiday Weekend

I’ve frankly admitted in this space earlier this month that I’ve been eating foolishly for about the past 40 days.  That, along with reduced opportunities for high intensity exercise, has resulted in a net weight gain of about six pounds.  My gut sticks out like I’m a few months pregnant and what I seem to be in danger of giving birth to is a fat, middle-aged man.  Oh, and the beard.  The beard has made it all seem worse.

For all that, I’ve taken what opportunities I can find to ride and have renewed my upper body strength training regimen.  Age doesn’t have to be about getting fat and weak.

After my cold, damp ride Thursday, my family and I drove to my mom’s house to celebrate Thanksgiving with the extended family.  Relatives from several states, as well as some living nearby, filled my mother’s house for the holiday meal.  The kitchen table held turkey, ham, gravy, and dressing.  The countertop under the china cabinet was covered with side-dishes.  One common ingredient to many of the sides was cheese.

I would guess that most of the adults present for the holiday feast consumed about 3000 calories.  Heck, I know I did, and the food was delicious.  In addition to the main and side-dishes was a counter covered with salads, and another surface covered with desserts.  About salads and The South – most congealed salads (except tomato aspic, I think it’s called) are really sweet jello desserts; the salad is the first dessert course.

Friday, at the workplace, I felt funky all day and cognitively off-key.  I said, at one point in late afternoon, “vital sounds” instead of “vital signs,” which I hope does not portend an amnestic disorder of some kind.  For lunch, I had a small meal from the cafeteria – not only because I felt ill, but also because I wanted to get an early start on my Disciplined December regimen.  My gut ached, my head throbbed slightly, and my lower back also ached.  I could not wait to get home.

Driving a car is easy, especially when it is an automatic transmission Swedish station wagon.  Back home, I thought I could relax and just crash, but we’d been invited to supper at Mom’s house where also present were my younger brother and his family.  We stopped at the store to buy a loaf to make garlic bread, and I filled up the red car’s tank at the gas station.  At Mom’s house, I tried to dial back my feeding, having only half a piece of chicken parmesan, and just one serving of spaghetti noodles, salad, and so forth.  I didn’t make a pig of myself.  Shortly after supper, chills set in and not long after that, we went back home. 

I spewed, then conked out in the spare bedroom with a towel and a Rubbermaid tub next to the bed.  Turns out they were unnecessary.  Saturday, one of the loveliest Thanksgiving Day Weekend Saturdays on record here at Stepford, I spent most of the day in bed, sleeping.  I probably ate no more then four or five hundred calories.  My gut continued to ache, as did my head and lower back.  I did, however, seem to have no further confusions of speech, but I didn’t talk a lot that day.

Because I was sick, I didn’t get to take my son outside, ride my bike, or enjoy an unexpected visit from dear  friends who passed by on their way home to Chattanooga.  Truly a wretched day of rest.

Sunday, I got up and taught (if you could call it that) my regular Sunday School class at the congregational meeting place (I need to update the Strip Mall Church page, because a lot’s happened with the congregation since I last made an edit there).  I went back to the house while my wife and son were at worship service, and rested a bit.  Still feeling pretty bad, but better than Saturday, I mowed and mulched up the thousands of leaves littering the yard.  Then, I got the Christmas decorations out of the attic so my wife could fill the house with visual reminders of the coming Holiday.  I think we forgot the Advent calendar, though.

I was able to eat Sunday, but by evening, felt chilled and checked my temperature.  Had a fever.  Had a lousy night’s sleep, and went to the local walk-in clinic first thing this morning.  The NP prescribed antibiotics for what he reckoned is a “stomach bug.”

So much good weather and so many opportunities for exercise and cycling, and opportunities to spend time with people I love as well as people I like, spoiled by a bacterium and its progeny.