Today I write from my sick-bed, well – the sofa. Don’t read any further if you’re squeamish about illness.
I usually manage to avoid seasonal illnesses. However, on Boxing Day I shared a Wii controller with a four-year-old who had just recovered from Norovirus, I’m not placing the blame there but apparently the virus can live on surfaces for three to four days. I went to work yesterday and felt fine until lunchtime. I started to get a little tired in the afternoon, which I put down to Christmas catching up with me. I headed home, and grabbed us a pizza as I passed the shops.
Halfway through my second slice of pizza I felt my stomach rumble. I figured I shouldn’t have opted for the four-seasons, the artichoke seemed to be making me feel a little unwell. Pausing for a moment I put the slice down and was then violently sick a dozen times into the salad bowl; for several minutes I crouched on all-fours retching like a cat with a furball. I continued being sick, not only into the salad bowl but also a Pyrex dish, the toilet… and the floor around it. I spent last night curled up in a lot of pain, largely I was burning-up with fever but had freezing-cold feet and hands. I lay on the bed in a virus-induced haze of pain and vomiting. Yes, there was another bowl of sick by the bed too. By this stage I wasn’t throwing up anything other than stomach acid, and a lot of that was streaming out of my nose and burning like crazy. In the midst of all this unpleasantness I heard my other-half make a frantic run from the sofa to the bathroom – and so began one of the most disgustingly unpleasant evenings of our lives.
It’s almost twenty-four hours later and surprisingly I’m feeling almost back to my usual-self again. If there’s any advice I can offer it’s this: If you know someone who’s had Norovirus give them a bloody wide berth for a few days!