Monday, I felt strangely fatigued. Just getting up and moving from one room to another took unusual will power. Well, I reminded myself, I didn't get a lot of sleep the night before, being breathless with excitement about the 8 a.m. triennial arrival of a crew of gardeners, as described in the prior post.
Tuesday was even worse. I forced myself to do my four-mile walk around campus early in the day, to beat the forecast 90-degree temperatures. But once I got home, I just sat in a chair and stared into space.
So this is what old age is going to be all about, I told myself. Even reading is too exhausting. Even thinking. I'll just sit here and wait for my final moments.
Last night, I awoke with mild discomfort in my stomach. Ah ha! Colon cancer, I assured myself in the darkness of the early hours. I slept fitfully, but each time I woke up my stomach hurt more, emitting great rumblings and growlings. At about 5 a.m., a quick visit to the bathroom assured me that I either had food poisoning or a gastro-intestinal virus.
Today's been ok. I skipped breakfast, had a small lunch, and am putting off dinner. I've stayed close to the bathroom. I still feel bloated. GI infections can take several days to clear, according to my authoritative on-line sources. No need to see a doctor, unless ... unless it lingers.
We call it stomach flu, but it isn't flu. Technically, it's viral gastroenteritis. It's no biggie, at least to doctors who deal daily with heart disease and lung cancer. To us little people, however, it's a damn nuisance.
Hang in there, the Mayo Clinic advises. You'll get over it on your own, adding as a caveat: "But for infants, older adults and people with compromised immune systems, viral gastroenteritis can be deadly." How old are these "older adults" of whom the Mayo Clinic speaks, I ask myself?
I'm working on my will.
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