A month ago, over Valentine’s Day, Brian got the flu. Yep — positive flu test (did you know those things cost $68 after insurance?) and all that. He was sick as a dog for a week. I’d like to say I was a fabulous nurse. In reality, I was probably less than kindhearted. I have a very low tolerance for sick adults, and am firmly in Camp Suck It Up. I’m still learning how to be sweet and supportive, y’all.
In addition, he came home with a prescription for an anti-viral that I refused to take, and I was annoyed when he wouldn’t accept any of the natural remedies that I know for the flu. He didn’t take the anti-viral, either, but I jumped right on the pine needle tea regimen that I had found. Pine needles contain the same active ingredient as the most commonly prescribed anti-viral, according to the information that I read. So I kicked up my vitamin D3 intake, added garlic and elderberry syrup, and drank pine needle tea for a few days. I never got anything more that a few aches and some fatigue and I was better before Brian was. I may have bragged a little about how far superior my methods were to either the mainstream anti-viral or his method of dealing the flu. Namely just man-suffering through it silently.
You see, I rarely get sick. I’ve had one antibiotic in five years (cellulitis in a bug bite this summer – scary!), and the last time I had the flu was 2006. When I do get a cold or the occasional virus, I usually kick it in half the time it takes others. I swear by herbal and natural remedies, and I usually can’t imagine why people wouldn’t prefer my way to their doctor’s. Why, yes, I am annoying, thank you.
Last week, I knew I was getting run down. I hadn’t been doing a good job taking my vitamin D3 and I can always tell a difference in my energy level when I slack off on that, and it usually saps my immune system, too. By Friday evening, I was exhausted. Saturday we had a great day full of pancakes, basketball, homemade spaghetti, and general busyness. And a deep, nagging cough. I felt a little rough Sunday but I dragged my carcass to church to play the prelude and offeratory. We had lunch afterwards with Mama and Daddy’s church. By the end of lunch, I was fading fast.
By Sunday night, I was officially dying of the plague. I coughed up both lungs, and was starting to think maybe I should make out a will. At 3:15 AM Monday, I gave in and hit the Nyquil. If you know me, you know I was desperate. I only resort to “medicine” when some manner of plant won’t heal me. Nyquil was necessary if I wanted to sleep. Brian was nice enough to cover for me Monday at work so I could sleep in a bit. By Monday night, my fever was 103.4 degrees (I usually run about 97.5) and I was pretty much delirious. I resorted to Tylenol and spent another fitful night keeping Brian awake while I hacked. On Tuesday, Brian informed me that I was to sleep until at least 10 while he watched the kids. He’s spent the past few days nursing me faithfully, getting me whatever I need, rubbing my back and holding down the fort. He learned how to make pine needle tea. He has persevered while I have barely been coherent. He is a far better nurse than I will ever be.
The moral? Don’t brag about how you have a superior immune system and a better brand of flu treatment unless you are willing to eat crow. I prefer my crow with a cup of tea, please….