All it takes is one nasty little germ

It finally happened:

I got sick.

I can't blame the chemo necessarily - I've been remiss in protecting myself from potential illness; I've become complacent with regard to the serious nature of germies.  Those little buggers are actively out to get me right now, and I thought I was above all of that.

Now, I'm flat on my back in bed with a fever and a sore throat and a really bad, whiny attitude.

I've been repeatedly told to avoid crowded places like the grocery store, schools, the mall, even the gym (when you really think about it, the gym is probably the germiest place on earth...) - in other words, the places I frequent with alarming regularity.  I was chided by my chemo nurse recently for not having a flu shot this year (I countered that I've never, ever had a flu shot, so why should this year be different?)  She pointed out that my white blood cell count (WBC) was higher than they liked before last week's treatment (indicating my body was fighting some kind of infection), so I suppose I should have seen this coming.

So I've just been flirting with disaster since the first day of treatment.  And yesterday, I got hit by the Sick Bus.

Kinda sucks, for lots of reasons.  Normally I'd load up on OTC meds and drag myself off to work, but I don't have the energy to do it.  If I push myself while I'm sick, I'm only going to get sicker.  And because chemo is doing its best to pretty much destroy lots of cells in my body - healthy and otherwise - it's like opening day of deer season in the U.P. right now.  Anything healthy is taking a hit from all the nasties floating around, and I have to work twice as hard to be half as healthy.

It's hard to explain how one simple little germ can really derail me right now - even I don't really believe it (or rather, I didn't until yesterday).  With the exception of being bald, I don't really look sick, and I've had several people tell me they "forget" I'm in treatment.  Makes sense - I forget sometimes, too.  So I hug and I kiss and I shake hands and I snuggle up and I share air and I hang out in rooms with sneezes and coughs, because that's what I would normally do.  Except that I'm not normal right now.  For most, a fever of 101 or 102 would mean going to bed and drinking tea and popping Advil; for me, 100.5 means I'm on my way to the hospital.  Guess I need to take this whole "germ" thing more seriously.

Today is shaping up to be a "stay in bed and heal" day.  With lots of hand sanitizer and Clorox wipes at my side.