A most personal invasion

We are nothing more than vessels for our masters; the germs, bacteria, and other microorganisms that see our bodies as their own ecosystems. They live in all the wet dark corners of our bodies, happily breeding and doing whatever other activities amuse and entertain them. Do they know we exist? Do they know anything at all?

If you haven't guessed, I have some kind of disease. First, Frances came down with it. Hacking and coughing more than usual (she is a smoker, after all) and sleeping a lot, she generously gifted it to Faye. And, of course, Faye felt it should be shared with me. So now I have the stuffed up sinuses, the chills are lurking in the wings (I can feel them, I tell you) with the fever.

The weakness is what I dread the most. That inability to feel any strength in arms or legs. It comes at the end of the fever and chills. Is it because we have expended all the nutrients to vainly (it seems) fight off the invading germs? All our resources seem to get used up, leaving us with a weakened shell of a body, a limp and useless (and often smelly) pile of flesh.

And that is where I am now at. I am at that stage where I am either in recovery and tomorrow will be back to my old, gimpy (damned knee!), self. Or I will be in relapse and going through more fever and chills and loss of appetite. You know (at least I do) you're sick when you cannot munch down some oatmeal raisin cookies.