Remember a few posts back when I said I’d rather have the flu than have my car die in the middle of the night?
I take that back.
Tuesday morning, amidst an early texting session with my friend Kim, my niece’s bedroom, where I am staying, started to spin. Fast. I chose a point on the ceiling to focus on to make the room stop spinning, but to no avail.
Somehow I made it out to the bathroom (holding on the walls, walking in a bit of a zigzag pattern), and the three hours that followed are a bit of a blur. Thank goodness my sister was here to steady me to the recliner, where I stayed for the next 16 hours, and thank goodness my sister is okay with sharing her meds…ah, Zofran, how I love thee…
I will spare you the gory details of how this flu manifested itself, but suffice it to say that for 36 hours my diet consisted of Saltines and Sprite.
I was still pretty unsteady this morning but I was determined to not let this bug destroy my vacation. My sister drove us into Ft. Walton Beach to run some errands and I felt sick the whole way. Until we stopped for lunch at Chick-Fil-A.
I knew I didn’t care if it made me sicker, I was gonna have me some waffle fries and some chicken nuggets. I even ate them as we drove back to Niceville. I am convinced they healed me.
With every salty, starchy waffle fry, my nausea eased. With every bite of tender, seasoned chicken, my strength returned. And here I am, an hour after eating and I feel the best I’ve felt in three days.
I always knew Chick-Fil-A was special, but I didn’t realize it was this special.