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Mono a Diann-o
Mononucleosis has Dianny on the ropes
My 5-year effort to guard against illness by avoiding large groups of people hit a snag on August 18 when I attended my Mom’s memorial service.
Sure enough, within 48 hours, I came down with a cold.
For normal people, a cold is a minor hiccup that lasts a few days and disappears. But for me and my fragile immune system, that cold was just the beginning of a weeks-long battle. By last week, every gland in my body was swollen and sore, including my spleen. My throat was so sore that I could barely swallow. Hell, I couldn’t even open my mouth wide enough to yawn.
Have you ever tried yawning when your throat hurts so much that you don’t want to open your mouth? It probably looked hilarious, not that I was laughing.
The monstrous sore throat has abated, but the bone-crushing fatigue still has its grip on me.
I’ve been sleeping more than a newborn and living on diet of soup, ice cream, and fluids.
This must be how Superman feels when Kryptonite saps him of his power.
I don’t recommend it.
Contracting mono is an exercise in patience, especially with my bloody useless immune system. I just have to take each day as it comes and let go of the anxiety that comes with being off work.
Sure, I’d rather be earning a living instead of taking sick days, but it is what it is. This too shall pass, as they say.
Mono is also a learning experience. I mean, I didn’t even know I had lymph nodes in my armpits until their inflammation made them impossible to ignore.
That’s about it from me. I’ve used up my “sitting upright before I topple over” points for the day.
I’m off to sleep again.
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