Day 829: Almost
Nov. 2nd, 2009 01:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nagi_schwarzThat's where I am. A state of almost. Because I'm almost better.
Better from what, you ask? Why, better from the worst illness I can remember having since my first year of undergrad. So, Saturday I was coughing and sniffly and thought to ask the home teachers for a blessing. Before they left, Stephen said, "I hope you feel better tomorrow." I popped some Nyquil and went to bed. And woke up at about four a.m. with a raging fever. I piled every single blanket I own on top of myself and stayed awake shivering and feverish until I finally fell asleep around seven. I was up at nine, and by "up" I mean "awake." If it was possible - and at the time I thought it wasn't - I felt worse than I had the day before. When I finally managed to heave myself out of bed, I could barely walk for how dizzy I was and almost gave myself a concussion about ten times, swaying across my apartment (and in the shower).
I spent most of the day curled up in bed trying to distract myself and drinking more water than I thought was humanly possible. I was able to eat some food, which was good. I tried to read, but my brain refused to have it. There was a whole lot of sitting around listening to music and taking naps and shivering pathetically when another fever struck. I was cold and feverish pretty much all day. Everyone was nice and called or sent messages asking if I was okay and did I want any chicken soup. (I actually don't like chicken soup. How weird is that?) I ended up half-watching, mostly listening to the West Side Story in an effort to stay awake long enough to talk to my mom and not utterly bollocks up my sleep schedule. I was in bed by nine (yay Nyquil). But...man. Yesterday I was miserable. I had a headache and a sore throat and was more miserable than I can remember being (from illness, at any rate).
This morning when I woke up, I felt fine. Seriously. Perfectly fine. No coughing, no sore throat, no runny nose. And then I tried to stand up and was a little wobbly, but hey, I was better. (Yay for Stephen and Dave!) I made it to school and I felt weaker than usual. (Does my backpack really weigh that much? I'd never noticed before.) I started hacking up a lung before practice, and as soon as we settled in for the trial, I felt my head fuzz up. Apparently, I'd feel fine as long as I was curled up in a nice warm bed. (I fell asleep during my morning run of my closing. During my own closing.) I managed to fumble my way through motions in limine and playing a witness on direct. I attempted to pull some energy for midtrial motions and direct. I actually did decently on cross for once, so I'm hoping it's a sign that my sense of cross has genuinely improved. I pulled out all the stops for closing, which is to say it felt like my closing went my very quickly and I was on autopilot. Maybe the judge could tell I was ill, or maybe I've done it enough times that a little enthusiasm and good memorization goes a long way.
After practice I bought orange juice and came home. I emailed my professor to tell her I wouldn't be in class today, and now I'm at home. Fuzzy-headed but alive nonetheless. I plan on chugging orange juice and maybe getting a handle on those letters I didn't write yesterday. I hope I get better. Everyone's been incredibly nice about me being sick.
Better from what, you ask? Why, better from the worst illness I can remember having since my first year of undergrad. So, Saturday I was coughing and sniffly and thought to ask the home teachers for a blessing. Before they left, Stephen said, "I hope you feel better tomorrow." I popped some Nyquil and went to bed. And woke up at about four a.m. with a raging fever. I piled every single blanket I own on top of myself and stayed awake shivering and feverish until I finally fell asleep around seven. I was up at nine, and by "up" I mean "awake." If it was possible - and at the time I thought it wasn't - I felt worse than I had the day before. When I finally managed to heave myself out of bed, I could barely walk for how dizzy I was and almost gave myself a concussion about ten times, swaying across my apartment (and in the shower).
I spent most of the day curled up in bed trying to distract myself and drinking more water than I thought was humanly possible. I was able to eat some food, which was good. I tried to read, but my brain refused to have it. There was a whole lot of sitting around listening to music and taking naps and shivering pathetically when another fever struck. I was cold and feverish pretty much all day. Everyone was nice and called or sent messages asking if I was okay and did I want any chicken soup. (I actually don't like chicken soup. How weird is that?) I ended up half-watching, mostly listening to the West Side Story in an effort to stay awake long enough to talk to my mom and not utterly bollocks up my sleep schedule. I was in bed by nine (yay Nyquil). But...man. Yesterday I was miserable. I had a headache and a sore throat and was more miserable than I can remember being (from illness, at any rate).
This morning when I woke up, I felt fine. Seriously. Perfectly fine. No coughing, no sore throat, no runny nose. And then I tried to stand up and was a little wobbly, but hey, I was better. (Yay for Stephen and Dave!) I made it to school and I felt weaker than usual. (Does my backpack really weigh that much? I'd never noticed before.) I started hacking up a lung before practice, and as soon as we settled in for the trial, I felt my head fuzz up. Apparently, I'd feel fine as long as I was curled up in a nice warm bed. (I fell asleep during my morning run of my closing. During my own closing.) I managed to fumble my way through motions in limine and playing a witness on direct. I attempted to pull some energy for midtrial motions and direct. I actually did decently on cross for once, so I'm hoping it's a sign that my sense of cross has genuinely improved. I pulled out all the stops for closing, which is to say it felt like my closing went my very quickly and I was on autopilot. Maybe the judge could tell I was ill, or maybe I've done it enough times that a little enthusiasm and good memorization goes a long way.
After practice I bought orange juice and came home. I emailed my professor to tell her I wouldn't be in class today, and now I'm at home. Fuzzy-headed but alive nonetheless. I plan on chugging orange juice and maybe getting a handle on those letters I didn't write yesterday. I hope I get better. Everyone's been incredibly nice about me being sick.
