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“You don’t look your usual self this morning,” said my wife at breakfast.
“No, I’m not feeling up too much,” I said. “I don’t know what I’ve got, but I hardly slept a wink all night, and now I’ve got a splitting headache.”
“Poor old thing,” she said, feeling my forehead. “It feels as if you’ve got a bit of a temperature.”
At work, I felt ghastly all morning. My head was now throbbing violently and there were moments when it felt as if the whole office was going round. At eleven o’clock I took a couple of aspirins with my coffee, they didn’t seem to do any good. By lunchtime I had to admit that I was running a high temperature: I felt hot and shivery at the same time.
I called my secretary in. “Look, Pam,” I said. “I’m not feeling too well. I’m going to take the rest of the day off.”
“Yes, of course, Mr. Gardener. You do look poorly. I hope you haven’t got this nasty flu that’s around.”
Feeling rather sorry for myself, I put on my overcoat and wrapped a scarf around my neck.
When I got home I went straight to bed and my wife gave me a hot water bottle. I certainly felt better lying down.
“ I’ll bring you some lunch in a minute,” said my wife.
“No, thank you,” I said. “I can’t eat a thing. All I want is a glass of water. Then I’ll sleep for a bit.”
“Don’t you think I’d better call the doctor?” she said. “I shouldn’t be surprised if you’ve got this flu, like Mrs. Higgins”
Mrs. Higgins was our daily help, and she’s been off work for the last few days.
Then I must have dozed off, for I woke up, sweating all over, to hear the doctor coming up the stairs. “Quite an epidemic of it,” I heard him say to my wife. I sat up feeling stiff and uncomfortable; my pajamas were sticking to me.
“Now then,” said the doctor, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Let’s have a good look at you.” He opened his bag and stuck a thermometer in my mouth. While he was waiting he took my pulse. Then he took out the thermometer and looked at it. “Just over a hundred and two,” he mumbled.
He put a stethoscope in his ears and listened to my chest.
***“Now the throat. Say “Ah”. Silence. “Looks a bit sore. Does it hurt when you swallow?” I nodded. “Mm. It’s flue all right. The throat’s nothing serious.” He looked for his pen. “Look here, I’m going to keep you in bed for a day or two. Keep taking plenty of aspirin to bring your temperature down, and I’ll give yousome pills to help you to sleep at night. You should stay away from work for the rest of the week and take it easy. It’s much better to shake it all off in one go if you can. Otherwise, if you go back to work too soon, it might drag on indefinitely.”***
He wrote out a prescription and handed it to my wife. As she saw him to the door I heard him saying: “He’s bound to feel rotten for the next day or two, but in any case I’ll drop in again the day after tomorrow to see how he’s getting on. Keep him well covered up.”
For two days I was terribly weak. Whenever I had to get out of bed, I felt giddy and was glad to lie down again. Moreover I couldn’t face eating anything; all I wanted was lots of drink and plenty of sleep. I didn’t even feel like reading. Then, suddenly, I felt much better. My temperature was almost back to normal, my appetite came back, and I felt I wanted to do something useful. Now my wife had to struggle to keep me in bed. “You’re not to overdo it,” she said. “Flue takes it out of you more than you think.” So I spent the time catching up with my reading. In fact, It was now all rather pleasant.
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