I'm sick. I'm rarely sick. I have a bad cold. The kind of cold that starts off by knocking you on your ass in a dizzy spell when you're at work. And, you're sitting in your cubicle wondering how you are ever going to make the drive home. And, in my case, that would be a 48.6 mile drive home.
I think I get a cold every 18 months or so. I credit my long spans of health to taking chelated zinc supplements, getting chiropractic care and washing my hands when I feel like I have come into close proximity to a vector of disease - typically in my world, vectors take the form of a small child or new employee at work.
I get a flu shot every fall. I eat right. I try to exercise regularly. I prefer outdoor spaces to indoor ones during the winter, and usually prefer outdoor spaces that include some type of woolie creature being moved around obstacles by a black and white pooch.
However, somehow, I managed to pick up this nasty bugger of a virus.
I suppose I started feeling a bit 'iffy' on Thursday night at agility practice with Jude. When I wasn't running my dog on the equipment, I was sitting in one of the plastic chairs. On Friday, I knew something was off and by lunchtime I had realized that perhaps coming in to work was a mistake. Then, the fever hit followed up with a migraine. You know that kind of headache where with every step you take you can feel the thud of the concrete meeting your shoe on the top of your head? That's what I had.
I was not happy Friday night as I knew I was super sick. It was the vertigo and the urge to go to bed at 8pm that was the deciding factor that I was not going to get to help at the Seattle Purebred Dog Rescue booth at the Seattle Kennel Club dog show on Saturday morning.
This is a SPDR event I really look forward to each year. I was planning on bringing Scott, the old Border Collie, to come with me and serve as a booth petting-dog since most dogs at a dog show are untouchable to the public. Scott adores people and getting attention from adults, kids and seniors. He seeks out hugs and will use his dazzling blue eyes to mesmerize and win over the hardest of souls. He also helps to bring in donations to support the rescue cause SPDR supports.
I spent Saturday, instead of at the dog show, watching movies on Netflix. By 3 o'clock, I felt no better - not even Robin Hood: Men in Tights could make me feel better. Then, I was suddenly struck by more disappointment because I remembered I was entered into a sheepdog trial with Scott and Rainey on Sunday morning and I still felt in no condition to leave my sofa. And, to make things even worse, we had to "Spring forward" on Saturday night to get back on Standard Time, thus I lost an hour of valuable recovery time.
Sunday was spent similar to how Saturday was; watching a lot of TV. I believe I went through 1.5 boxes of Kleenex on Sunday. It was brutal.
Today I am taking a sick day from work. I find myself back here, on my couch, watching TV, blogging finally and being monitored closely by the collies. My mom took Lucky, the Maltese/Shih Tzu home with her so I wouldn't have to manage him with the three big dogs.
Each collie has his/her own duty, which I find quite interesting.
Scott is my bedside nurse. He keeps me in his sights and checks up on me often. He reminds me of when it's time to make his dinner and cleans up the remains left on yogurt cups, on Klondike Bar wrappers and in cereal bowls in order to keep the couch tidy. He is really trying to help (such a neat freak).
Mattie is my escort/bodyguard. She follows me to the bathroom, bedroom, kitchen, couch, bathroom, repeat... (those are really the only places I've been in the last 3 days). Mattie alerts me to people at the door, people down the road, people riding their bikes by the house... she just wants to make sure that I am keeping in touch with the outside world I guess. She is also Jerill's greeting committe when he comes home since I can barely lift my head to whisper out a "Hi honey!"
Jude is my jester. He is the much-needed comic relief a sick person needs. He's almost 10 months old now and there is just something about a giant 10-month old Border Collie dog that makes me smile - especially one with a big white head, crystal-blue eyes and black eyeliner. If I hadn't named him Jude, I would have named him Stype, after Michael Stype from R.E.M. I digress.
Now, Ellen is on TV and I am compelled to watch.