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We're talking about the human body and the immune system. Why you sneeze when you have a cold, and why you get body aches with a fever, what antibiotics do and why it's important to take them exactly as your doctor prescribed them.
Ava raises her hand. "Mr. Grace?" I love when my students are engaged and ask questions, and I really try to keep that momentum in my classroom. I nod to her to go ahead. "My grandma said that you're supposed to feed a cold and starve a fever. What does that mean?"
"Ah," I smile, "that's an old wives' tale." I quickly explain, "It's a myth, basically. Back when we didn't understand diseases that well, people used to think that a fever was its own disease, and that if you made yourself eat while you were sick, you would be making it worse."
By the looks on my kids' faces I can tell that they're not sure what to make of that. "Well, today we know that a fever isn't its own illness, for starters, and that when you're sick, your body needs all the help it can get. Your immune system needs the right nutrition to work well, and also a lot of hydration and rest."
When everyone feels good about the answers floating around the room we move ahead to the next question.
I said all that a couple of weeks ago, so how come putting food in my stomach is the very last thing I even want to think about? No, actually, the last thing I want to think about is writing sub plans. Thank god, it's Saturday, but it not being a weekday is really all I have to be thankful for. I woke up at 5 AM, which I never do even when there's school, shivering but not realizing what was going on until I'd buried myself full-body in the comforter and still heard my own teeth chatter.
It's 8 AM now and I've been sitting on my couch for two hours, wrapped in blankets, unable to get any warmer. I could turn on the heating but it's the end of May and I just refuse to do that—global warming is bad enough as it is, without me pumping more CO2 into the atmosphere.
The re-run of the original Star Trek series on TV is sort of helping me hold onto sanity. I say sort of, because I fantasize about Dr. McCoy reaching through the screen and giving me a pill cure for the flu or whatever it is I have. What we're doing in the 21st century to treat it must seem as barbaric in the 22nd, as what I think about Hippocrates claiming a fever is its own disease.
I want to sleep, sleep, sleep... But when I close my eyes I can get as comfortable as I can get warm. Not at all, that is. I've been curled up with my back against the back of my couch, which only made my skin feel raw and tingly. Then I stretched myself out the whole length of it, flat on my back. The worst position ever, by the way, because it just made me feel like I was ready to get put in the ground. Half-sitting up with my back against the armrest and my knees tucked up at not quite a right angle is the best I can do, in the end.
Unfortunately, despite shivering so much, my temperature doesn't move either side of 102°F. I took some Tylenol about an hour ago. It hasn't done a thing. Checking my watch, I wonder if I can take another dose, but the first pill probably isn't too happy floating around in my gastric acid all on its lonesome. I should eat something or it's going to make my stomach hurt on top of the rest of my body.
But starving a fever, I figure, seems more natural to do than anything. Yeah, I told my students you should eat well and drink plenty of water, but when you're sick the white blood cells release a boatload of cytokines that tell your hypothalamus that you don't want to have any food. After all that, I'm still not able to eat more than a bite of plain toast.
I drift away to Bones saying it's crazy to make a man travel by scattering his molecules all across the universe. The thought of my molecules being scattered makes me feel woozy. Is that what I'm going to dream about...?
As soon as I wake up, I don't even think about it. I'm floored by the heat that suddenly washes over me when I know the last time I was conscious I had bad chills. I roll off the couch onto the floor, grunting as I land. My knees feel weak, I definitely should have tried to eat earlier. I drag myself to the bathroom and quickly wet a washcloth in the sink. My hands don't coordinate well to wring it out, so it drips all over as I slap it against my forehead, and still dripping I get back to the couch and slump back down.
I don't want to blame any of my kids for getting me sick, but I try to rewind my brain for anyone leaving their germs on a desk or on one of the manipulatives. For better or worse, I come up empty. Doesn't matter anyway, being a teacher you tend to get sick less and less each school year, so this has got to be something fierce to knock me down at this point. Best I can do now is not to spread it, which is fairly easy. I don't feel like I need to call anyone to take me to the hospital and I can just not open the door for my neighbor Mrs. White.
Too much logistics, too much thinking, I judge after deciding that. My head is heavy and the air in my living room feels stuffy, but I can't be bothered to get up again and open a window, so I let myself drift into the afternoon as I am. What I end up watching after Star Trek, I don't know, but I eventually convince myself to take another Tylenol and this time it seems to have some effect. That or waking up hot as I was, was the start of the fever breaking on its own.
The closer I get to 100°F, the better my head feels again, but it's past 9:30 PM when that happens and looking at the time just makes me want to go drag myself from the couch to the bed. No shower, not even brushing my teeth. And I haven't eaten all day. If I live to Monday, I say to myself, I'm not going to tell my class...