Yesterday, I got a little more white grape juice and pedialyte than I thought he’d need, just in case we needed to jump-start someone ele’s treatment. Looks like it was just about enough, though.
Over last night, L and I hammered 3 doses each of oscillococcinum, which we usually find very effective in warding off the flu. I’m used to respiratory flus. We shall see.
Today, L wiped all the knobs and surfaces with alcohol and washed all the towels and linens in hot water. Growing up, she had two rounds of rheumatic fever and her mother had adult polio, and the entire family got chicken pox at the same time; she knows what to do “when there’s sickness in the house,” to use her timeless phrase.
I stood back and made encouraging noises, and wished — for the very first time, every time — that I was able to be just a bit more use.
With the autonomic nausea I’ve been fighting off and on for weeks now, it’s hard to say if I’m actually getting flu-y or if the autonomia is kicking up. As I finished picking up the kitchen, though, my insides let me know that they are considering the value of reverse gear. Nothing substantial, just a warning…
|That’s the autonomic transmission, on the right…|
Intestinal flu wreaks havoc on the autonomic system:
- Turns the GI system inside out, which boosts inflammation, disturbs blood sugar, and wastes fluids;
- Whacks out the electrolytes, which alters nerve transmission and pretty much every other cellular process, generally spiking a pain flare and roasting the higher cognitive functions;
- Dries out the body, which puts what’s left of the fluid-dependent brain and CNS in the toilet — along with everything you’ve eaten for the last day.
A healthy body has metabolic margins to absorb this with considerably more grace. It’s still bad, mind you — really rotten, in fact. Pre-injury, tummy flus always made me wish I was dead.
In a body with dysautonomia and CRPS, it’s a ghastly festival of burning, of mindless agony, and a sheer dreadfulness to existence that words can’t touch.
So I’m considering a quick Epsom salt bath to preload my system with that lovely electrolyte, I’m getting up a blog post with these wonderfully dinner-appropriate details (hah!), and hoping that L — who, as she has often said, did have her flu shot this year — will be well enough tomorrow to run to the store for more pedialyte and white grape juice.
Everything comes to an end, even the flu. The awareness that there is always an “afterwards” is always with me now. It’s a good thing to keep in mind, because the reflex is to get lost in the now, when it’s overwhelming. But there is always an afterwards.
I’m not worried, I’m not anticipating, I’m not buying into the nerves. My mind always runs contingency plans, but that’s natural for me. (If I can’t come up with a plan B and a plan C, check for a pulse.)
So it’s time to catch up on a few things, push extra fluids, coach my body into the tub and back out again, and take things as they come. The low energy just means I have more time to watch DVDs; the wonky tum just means I don’t have to think as often about what to eat.
But seriously… take every opportunity to be happy; it makes you stronger. 🙂