Flu season
It’s Sunday, the 9th of March…
and I am inside Il Poggiolo’s Winter HQ, La Casetta. Croesus & Anthea are generously sharing the tumble-downed Black Chesterfield sofa with me. There’s a fire going—an ideal ambiance for all present on a cold & grey morning.
I am sick… with the flu. Again. I have been so afflicted since last Wednesday, the 26th of February. I thought it was just a cold. At least, it started as a cold, with sniffles, a dry, light cough, and chills. A week later, those symptoms had exploded into an emergency visit to my Dott.essa for antibiotics, etc. It was the flu. Again.
This bout is the consequence of working away in the giarden on the only single sunny day between many days of ugly, grey, rainy weather. I happily knocked off… on that afternoon… a few items on my Garden Spring Prep 2025. I worked up quite a sweat, though I was well covered with a hat, a scarf, a wool sweater, and a thick T-shirt underneath all. Unfortunately, when I had finished around 5 PM, I had this terrible premonition of coming down with something dreadful. I grabbed the Dogs and returned to La Casetta for an immediate shower followed by a large cup of tea with milk, honey, and a shot of whiskey, too. Treats of whole wheat bread were distributed to the Dogs. And, indeed by 9:00 PM, I could declare myself sick.
I HATE having to admit A) making a grave error with my fragile health and B) and it is a more regular occurrence, conceding that You was right… all the time… WARNING me not to sweat while working out-of-doors. It just leads straight to malatia. There is no C).
I am exasperated. The again is for the second time in three and a half months I have come down with this Fall/Winter’s flu. What is worse, I learned its characteristics the hard way…
got tremendously ill in the US. Toughed it out with only Bayer Aspirin and my Mother’s Best Quality Californian Chardonnay… costing what a compact Merceded-Benz might run. Came back to Italy for over-the-counter Italian medicines. Felt better. Yeah, sure, I can lick this grunge WITHOUT resorting to antibiotics ‘cause we are nearly at the end of the road with them anyway. Went to the gym, messed around in the giarden with You and when there was sunshine, and dined with friends & family for the holidays. Got sick again. Laid low at our Winter HQ, imbibing the same array of Italian meds. They alleviated symptoms, though they were not a cure. Thought time would do that. Silly me. Felt better again. Sillier me. Returned to previous practices. Got really, feverishly sick. Had to listen to You… always present for my more disgraceful moments of shame and/or desperation… mumbling… I told you so. Called my Dott.essa for an appointment to procure any available mega-antibiotic and other full-strength medicines to deal with coughing, laryngitis, runny nose, upset tummy, too… and what else? Oh, yeah, right. A killer sore throat. Rehab continued at Il Poggiolo with what was left of January.
Not in the pink after a second shot of an antibiotic from my Dott.essa, etc., I have developed this hypothesis: our current season’s flu is a less dangerous evolution of Covid, yet retains certain bio-componentry from said plague. It camps out in your body, waiting to be provoked so it can throw its nasty symptoms at you… again and again and again… until you park it with a good quantity of meds, rest, tea and/or soup for weeks. For what purpose? Lingering entertainment value? It has nothing better to do? Likes a cozy home in your lungs or muscle tissue? Like a certain unnamed fixture of Our Times, this flu probably enjoys sewing chaos and unhappiness… biologically. Nothing to do but tough it out until I feel 100% myself. That in itself is a challenge.
When well, if ever, Coming Attractions await!!!
Only three on a very long list for Spring Garden Prep 2025. The weather could co-operate. No matter, I am inside by a fire with two crazed Weimaraners and a good book… on grunge music. Seems appropriate, no?