darla bartos

Where do I begin?

After a robust and healthy Christmas with family, Influenza A paid me a visit.

A full-blown achiever, I was glad it was Influenza A, rather than Influenza B. (Not endowed with medial expertise, I admit freely I knew nothing distinguishing the two flues.)

But I can tell you about Tamiflu, the medication.

After five days of taking it,  I read The New York Times headline:

“Power Vacuum in Middle East Lifts

Militants.” (Jan. 5, 2014)

I stared at the headline and the image before me was a sparkling prototype – something new to help my unforgiving carpet.  Now think about that for a moment. Power Vac. Five minutes later I reread it.  Oh, that’s not a new vacuum cleaner. Thoroughly disappointing.

Coming out of the flu stupor after ten days on the couch, I reflected on my forced house arrest.

The first two days I could not endure noise or light. Bummer. Nix television, which can be a lifesaver when you’re not even up to thinking.

I wrestled with life while wallowing in pain. I was determined not to give this to another living soul. My grown children delivered meds or soup to my door, which I only opened after they were safely in their vehicles.

Convinced that drugs alter our brains, I can now testify that Tamiflu can make you half crazy. On a few evenings I thought I saw the Grim Reaper. But, he vanished when my lids closed. And luckily, I was still there the next morning.

I snuggled into my pillow and relaxed on the couch again and drifted off, realizing later I might want to write about it – if I curvived. So I jotted down a word here, a sentence there so I wouldn’t forget.

All I can say is that these pills, which looked incredibly harmless, were mind blowing.

But I made it.  I’m all better. How about you?