So, I’ve survived the dreaded flu. Not the “Oh, I’ve got a cold, but I’ll soldier through” type of flu. No, this was the full-fledged, three-week, body-aching, brain-fog, fever-sweat extravaganza that made me question life choices. And let’s face it: when it dragged on that long, I embraced flexibility in every aspect of life. I’m not talking about yoga poses here. I’m talking about a flexibility that involved adjusting my expectations, schedule, and even personality (for the sake of the HHH, Oliver and Wookie).
Week 1: Denial and the “I’ll be Fine” Stage
Looking back, the first few days were a blur of fevers and chills, while I told myself, “Oh, it’s just a little virus. I’m tough. I’ll power through. It’s just a cold, right?” All the while, my body was trying to convince me that it was an unwilling participant in some sort of medieval torture while I soldiered on. I think, “I’ll keep blogging. I’ll eat meals in bed. I’ll watch the entire season of High Seas on Netflix—I can multitask, right?”
But then I realized my body had other plans. With a brain that turned to mush, the only thing I “worked” on was perfecting the art of napping. Every time I tried to do something remotely productive, I was struck with a wave of fatigue so intense, I consider changing my name to “Nap Queen.” Suddenly, blogging, church, and our Grief Share Group became a distant blur while I started focusing all my energy on convincing my body to
Just.
Keep.
Breathing.
By Day 4, HHH took me to the ER, unable to watch the suffering any longer. After enduring five long hours in the waiting room, I was diagnosed with Influenza A. I could expect up to two more weeks of sickness and then a lengthy recovery. It was a very cold and long ride home, facing the reality that this was only the beginning.
Week 2: The Flexibility Crisis
By Week 2, I’d , entered a whole new phase: The “What Is Even Happening Anymore?” phase. The first week I tried to maintain some semblance of normalcy. By the second week, I was humbled. Flexibility was no longer a nice-to-have; it became a survival tactic. Blogging? Ha! The only deadline I became concerned with was whether I’d make it out of the bathroom before my fever spiked again.
So, I got creative. I rearrange my day to accommodate my fluctuating energy levels. Did I have energy to respond to an email? Absolutely not. But I did manage send a texts to our prayer group asking for them to add my name to their growing list. I told myself, “I’ll clean the kitchen once I feel better.” But let’s be real. That kitchen didn’t get cleaned for another two weeks—and quite frankly, I was too tired to feel guilty about it.
Meanwhile, flexibility with food choices became critical. I never felt more liberated than eating nothing but Subway, soup, crackers, and popsicles for days on end. Nutrition? Who needs it when you’re in survival mode? I started to understand why people in the Old Testament just ate manna and called it a day. Simple. Uncomplicated. Flexibility is key here.
On Day 11, HHH again took me to the ER. After another chest x-ray, we were told the same information. Influenza A is a tough one. Stay hydrated. Keep flexible. Soldier on.
Week 3: Total Surrender
By the third week, I’d fully embraced the art of flexibility. My body made it clear it doesn’t answer to willpower. I could no longer pretend that I was just “a little sick.” No, I was deeply sick, like “I’ve been to the edge and back” sick. By then, I’d accepted my fate. Mastering the art of flexibility, I could stretch my willpower as thin as possible without actually doing anything productive.
I started binge-watching Netflix to the point where I could write a dissertation on obscure true crime documentaries. I got up occasionally, only to promptly lie back down in exhaustion because standing for more than five minutes was clearly overrated. Besides, it was unachievable.
By this point, I became an expert in rest. Who knew? I learned to appreciate the small victories of life: surviving the day without needing to take 3 naps, brushing my teeth without feeling like I’d run a marathon, or the joy of making it to the fridge without collapsing. Flexibility wasn’t just about physical flexibility anymore—it became about bending my expectations to accommodate the new, flu-ravaged reality.
The Final Lesson
So what’s the moral of the story, my healthy friends? It’s simple: when the flu shows up uninvited and overstays its welcome, the key to survival is flexibility. Flexibility with time, flexibility with energy levels, flexibility with expectations. It may be inconvenient, frustrating, and downright miserable at times, but flexibility is the only thing that will help you survive the three-week flu apocalypse.
HHH has my undying love and appreciation. He has his own story regarding the other side of this fiasco. Suffering through a lesser version of the same bug, he never wavered, bringing me all the Subway, tacos, and popsicles requested.
And hey, emerging from the depths of sickness, I have newfound respect for the simple pleasures of life, like breathing freely and being able to stand up without my knees buckling. Whatever you do today, stay flexible, folks. You never know what’s around the bend.
