The influenza attack I just went through was unlike anything I'd ever expect from that silly disease. I suppose in retrospect it wasn't all that bad, but in my previous battles with the flu I wasn't fearing for my damn life.
Date of infection speculated to be February 14, when I went to my high school to reunite with my past teachers, and to check how the school's doing.
Since then first symptoms appeared, in the form of weak but annoying abdominal pains. I thought nothing of them for a few days, and then began the Gauntlet.
February 17th - the disease's grace period has ended. It was detected by my immune system, which promptly started mobilising everything to fight the new intruder. Fever spiked sharply to around 38°. At this point I hadn't yet realised this was influenza, and had assumed it was just the common cold, so I didn't bother taking any drugs.
February 18th - Woke up feeling better, but still noticeably sick. This was when I remembered it was flu season in Poland. After checking the symptoms, it was pretty clear I was fighting influenza, not the common cold. This is when I started symptomatic treatment and antiviral usage, hoping for things to resolve smoothly.
February 19th - Things turn for the worse, the disease takes hold. Unbeknownst to me, this wasn't even the apex of this fight yet. The fever spikes higher, reaching 39.6°. Cognitive functions are slowed down to a point where doing anything becomes quite tiring. I spend the day sitting around doing nothing, trying to pass the time by watching Youtube videos. I go to bed and try to "sweat out the disease", as advised by my parents. I can't sleep for 3 hours, eventually managing to finally turn off at 2 AM.
February 20th - I wake up at 8 AM to go take a piss. As I wash my hands, my heart starts beating faster, and my breathing becomes more shallow. I try to brush it off, thinking it's just another light panic attack. When I enter the kitchen, that's when it hits me - extreme tiredness. I lean against the counter for support, expecting to regain energy, but I end up only losing even more. By the time I figured out what was going on, it was already too late.
I'm losing conciousness. Fast. I use my last strands of energy to call for dad to lead me to bed. As he tries to assist me I try to look around, but see nothing. I try to open my eyes, but they're already open? My vision's gone. By this time I'm in the doorway to my room, trying to feel out my surroundings. Optics are down - hearing goes down too. Heavy ringing fills my ears as I stumble clumsily into a cabinet. My dad helps me recover, and I'm back to shambling towards my bed. My sense of balance is fading too, all systems are shutting down. I'm just a few steps away from my bed, and likewise a few seconds away from the aether. Is this it? Am I gonna go lights out?
Suddenly I feel myself sit on the soft mattress on my bed, and I waste no time to lay down. I slowly fade back into reality, my entire body sweating profusely from the experience. I check my blood pressure - 87/59 mmHg. Textbook hypotension. I stood up too fast too many times, and my brain couldn't work with the reduced blood flow. We've got nothing on-site for low blood pressure, I'll just have to sit this one out. We're in a rural area, and every trip to the city needs to be planned ahead of time.
The next eight hours were spent bed-bound. I managed to spur up enough energy to walk only an hour before the sun had set. My blood pressure by that time had risen to 100/63 mmHg. Not great, but good enough to walk without fear of shutting down at random. When I tried sleeping, though, that's when everything hit the fan. I couldn't do it. I just couldn't.
"Some shut-eye is better than nothing", so I just stuck with that for three hours until I couldn't handle it anymore. I also learned that "sweating out the disease" was nothing but a myth, and that I was overheating my body for no reason. I kept feeling my heart beat, and just thinking that it might stop. I don't remember the last time I went through such mental turmoil.
Couple this with feeling extremely tired, everything hurting, and having to switch shirts and drink water every few minutes. I felt like a prisoner in my own room. I would've broken down crying if I had the energy. I fell asleep at 5 AM, an hour before my scheduled antiviral pill.
February 21st - Woke up at 6, took the pill, went back to bed. Woke up at 1 PM, taking every precaution not to trigger a conciousness loss, but unbeknownst to me, it was already over. My fever wouldn't go over a temperature that could even classify it as a fever, and my blood pressure, while still low, was within normal levels - nothing like yesterday. As suddenly as it took hold, the disease was gone.
I think the worst thing about all of this is how it took away my "normality", even if for a week at best. Daily activities, like making myself food, going to the bathroom, and sleeping became challenging. ESPECIALLY sleeping - something so elementary, so crucial to my life was snatched away from me.
I became scared of the night for once in my life. If something were to happen to me during one of those nights, I'd be gone. The nearest hospital is miles away, and its quality is.. mediocre at best. If my heart stopped, CPR wouldn't make a difference - the ambulance takes 2 hours to reach this place. This was the first time I truly thought about this, and it terrified me. This is why I couldn't sleep that night.
The mental fallout of all this still affects me, and it will take some time to get rid of it. But it's over now. I did not think a simple influenza infection would put me through the fuckin' ringer like this.
And, honestly... all of this would've been prevented if I had recognized my symptoms sooner.