Killer Flu from Hell ( Or just deluded workaholic, I am not sure which one applies)

In case I haven't returned your phone calls or your emails, I have been in a semi-state of hiding for the past week. I knew by Monday that I didn't feel well, but I blew it off to my normal Monday bitchiness. By Tuesday I was anxious, cranky, crabby and whiny, but I blew it off to having a final that night. ( That final really pissed me off. I hate having to encourage others. I don't necessarily mind being a positive influence, but at a certain level you would expect people to have their own drive)

Wednesday I bailed out of work by noon, after saying I wouldn't go home. I am determined to have a real vacation this year, and not spend all of my time off sick or for personal responsibilities and etc. However, after putting up with some absolute bs for five hours, I said f&*% it and called the hot Indian GP for an appointment. Rode the elevator and felt pretty dizzy - blew that off to some kind of weird equilibrium thing in the elevator. Got in my car, drove an hour towards home, and arrived in the GP offices' parking lot. Didn't remember a bit of my journey. Attributed my lack of memory to not having had anything to eat yet that day.

Fell asleep in the waiting room ( a true sign of illness on my behalf, I require absolute silence for sleeping, not a bunch of blue-haired women gossipping about their hemorroids and Maude's latest Botox) and finally went back to my own little roomie. Spent time catching up with hot Indian doc, who insisted on asking about everything. Normally, I wouldn't mind a bit, but today I felt a little nonplussed about the whole thing. I really just wanted to go home and get in my bed.

Hot Indian Doc said I had a bad case of the flu with a nice touch of bronchitis to accompany it. He wanted to know if I managed to locate a flu shot this year. I remember feeding him this look of disbelief - ie - "You must be one loony fu&*in hot Indian doc to think I have the time to seek out a flu shot. I understand it was important, but I have other things going on in my day that don't really allow me any personal time, ya know what I mean?"

However, Doc and I reached a state of zen enlightenment when we concluded talking about the color of my mucus and other delights, and managed to discuss the new bar I had discovered. Doc was ultra pleased I quit smoking last year. ( Somehow I had forgot to go back for a follow up and tell him how delightful his little inhalers were). He laughed at me and treated me like some bad-15 year old when I told him I have taken up cigar smoking instead. Nice work from the hot doc.

Anyway, I went home and have been virtually asleep for four days or so. I feel pretty horrible, I lost 10 lbs., and my skin is breaking out like I am a sophomore in high school. I honestly have no clue how I am going to drag my ass out of bed tomorrow and go back to my routine of hell, but we are just going to buckle up and make it work. You miss more than two days of work and the open req is out, everyone assumes you died, and they begin to go through your drawers for treasure.