After 90 minutes at the computer, first time in days, I ached all over. Anti-inflammatory to the rescue! I realized a short time later that I had been awake the entire afternoon, that I had a small something that could be called appetite, and that I had the energy to go cook a very simple meal (my wife is marching behind me on this Road of Sickness).
Not me. Just the way I felt. April 1973.
What's this? Is that my brain? No! Really? Consciousness, creative thought? For more than one hour? Oh, happy day! Now listen up, Body: You're lagging behind. Yes, I actually stayed awake through this afternoon—good start— but you've got a long way to go. I need appetite, normal temps, and speaking of normal, let's start sleeping at regular bedtimes. I'm tired of getting up at four a.m. Okay?
I didn’t think I would be posting a poem today. I woke at 4 a.m. because I turned out the lights to sleep around 7:15 p.m. I’ve been spending much of my time asleep these past three days. When I woke today my temp registered 102.4 in its continual upward climb. For a guy who normally registers 97.8, it was just too high. Couldn’t stay awake, but after another couple hours of sleep, I booked an early appointment at the UNC Urgent Care. In just over an hour I confirmed that I have the flu (A) despite testing negative for it on Thursday morning. Apparently the fever broke because they didn’t even get 100 until I made them do it again: 100.2 degrees Fahrenheit. Forcing myself to eat some toast, I napped yet again, but woke feeling a little more normal. That short period of lucidity produced the poem. Having napped again(!), I now feel I’m slipping downhill, but at least I know there’s nothing for it but to drink ridiculous amounts of water, sleep, and wait it out.
Anise hyssop with what I believe is a hornet. I’m too whacked to look it up. August 2026.
Why is it called "The Flu"? From where did it fly? To where could it be going? Certainly not far. Like guests who say, "I must be leaving," only to do anything but, this unwanted visitor refuses to leave or to let us get on with our lives. Sure, there's some scientific mumbo- jumbo about 'influenza' but if your nickname's The Flu that's enough certitude for me. Long ago I had The Flu. One night I thought I might be dying, so scoured by its fevers. This time I half wished for that kind of fever to carry me away, to wherever it flies. Now boarding Airline Flu!
Reality fades in, out; Touching it, you take your temperature. Ah. Still three digits. You wish it would stay for coherency's sake. Then you would know if you should seek more help.
Sickness will surely take the mind where minds don’t usually go.
Sick. Again. Pete said, "...where minds don't usually go," which begs Why? Why would I want to go there? Give me The Acid Queen, let mom smash my mirror. Street cleaner's coming, to get debris. I think I'll lie in the gutter.
Once I had The Flu, thought one night, 'I'm dying' when fever took me. I laid in bed reading. Quarter century, more has passed. How can Covid, Flu be more sedate than some nameless bug nibbling my joints, scrambling my brain?
Unlike most years here in central North Carolina, temperatures have been colder than normal and our first hard frost occurred this morning. The above photo from November 24th last year, shows the glory of our lone non-native tree to survive The Culling, a.k.a., the landscaping project of 2024-25. This year it still retains red leaves but they are dulling. Dogwood, which in years past held onto their dusky maroon-colored leaves, now stand bare, attesting to the weather with a solitary leaf here and there. Plants closer to the ground now are yellowing and soon will follow the trees.
On the personal front, fall seems an apt term the past two years. At this time last year we were winning our battle against Covid, entering our third week in its grip. This year a Covid-like virus laid me low all of October 26th through November 2nd, and its nasty little cousin showed up yesterday, an intestinal thing. (“Detestinal” thing?)
Dry, sunny weather accompanies these low temperatures, providing a yin to the biting yang of it. Our bird world changes almost overnight: the year-rounders come back to the feeders to start bulking up, others disappear, and soon birds of prey will become more prominent on their leafless perches. Last week a raven lingered in front of the house, a surprising sight.
This year brought an unusual amount of treework in our near neighborhood. Trees and large limbs fell frequently during unusually rainy weather this summer. Fearful homeowners culled trees simply because they stood near the owners’ houses. A red oak ‘shared’ with our neighbor—it has managed to grow across the property line—dropped a limb the size of a small tree onto the neighbor’s driveway in a spot which had held a car until a week or two before the limb fell. Our good friends around the corner were not so lucky, losing a vehicle when a limb fell on a minivan about six weeks ago.
NC weather continues its wonderfully contrarian ways, at least to born, bred, and experienced Northerners (a.k.a. “Yankees!” as the Southern epithet is uttered). Temperatures promise to level out and this coming weekend will rise as high as 76. Any day after Halloween which promises temperatures in the 70’s (let alone the 60’s) seems to be a gift, even after living here nearly 20 years. And the most anticipated weather event for the coming months? The knowledge that someday in our near, winter-weary future, a singular weather pattern will convince a 70+ degree day to appear in late December or January. Always a welcome respite, even if its appearance always remains a cameo.
In milder years (2021), our trees still held green leaves on Nov 10th, let alone yellow. November 2021.
On approach to Raleigh-Durham airport. January 2020.
About three years ago today, as we ignorantly assumed nothing like Covid-19 lay on the horizon, I returned to Raleigh, North Carolina, from my boyhood home of Spokane, Washington. I had spent two weeks sorting two lifetimes’ worth of goods my parents stashed into their house. Raleigh never looked so good to me: I carried the deep satisfaction from accomplishing a complete journey through the whole household, and I had left the cold, snowy north to the lovely near-spring weather pictured above. My retirement might have officially begun 50 days prior, but it didn’t really begin until this moment of coming home. One month later we returned through the same airport from New Orleans, unknowingly passing Patient Zero who brought The Covid to our area, and we spent all of March sitting on our butts wondering what had kicked them so soundly!
