Thursday, October 30, 2014

If there’s anything half-dead around here, this website notwithstanding, it would be yours truly. Two winters ago, in what was decidedly the worst Christmas present I’ve ever received, I took ill with a virus of epic proportions. There was projectile vomiting. Fever. A severe case of the runs. Trips to Urgent Care and the ER. And this was before Ebola was even a thing here. Overcoming this ordeal was a badge of honor, as Cheshire can attest. That’s because she’s a survivor, too.

On Saturday, I was pretty certain this strain of misery had found me in Texas, basic tenets of immunology be damned. Problem was, Ebola’s very much a thing now, so I paid close attention to my symptoms. I was pleased to avoid fever and projectile vomiting, insofar as a man can be pleased when afflicted with Montezuma’s revenge, dizziness, and an achy body. That was my routine, Saturday through Monday: frequent temperature readings, an avoidance of food, the runs, and sweet, sweet oblivion, whenever it availed itself.

Tuesday was a final exam of sorts, with a two-hour conference call culminating in a brisk tour of over 1,600 lines of SQL code–and a self-imposed embargo on bathroom breaks throughout. But then the sickness broke, giving way to the silver lining. When the one thing on your to-do list is to stave off dehydration, your calendar clears up quickly. In this clarity, you find a renewed focus, a mental reboot. You see what’s worthy of your time, whether it be people, work, or dating. It’s like an enema for the mind.