Being Alive Newsletter - March 1999
Mark Olmsted

Anyway, I am now groping my way back to a non-hostile tummy, trying to remember, and implement, what helped last time around the toilet. (At least I didn't have a fever, thank God.) If you feel just fine, put this on your fridge for future reference. If you are part of my target audience, my sympathies, as I do know how hard it is to do anything when you feel like death warmed-over.

But first, a disclaimer.

Disclaimer: I am not a doctor, or even a nutritionist. I'm just a know-it-all. I share from personal experience, only. Nothing I say should be considered on par with, or instead of, a physician's advice.

That said, all docs I have spoken to had this advice about the intestinal flu: if you don't feel like eating anything, that's usually okay (even therapeutic), at least for a day or two. But you must drink liquids, preferably water. If you can't even stand that, probably because you throw everything up, and you haven't called your doc yet, call, even at two in the morning. You may have to go to the Emergency Room and get an IV. (Sometimes a needle is your friend! Distract yourself as it goes in by musing over what tums spells backwards.)

Remember, dehydration is not to mess with for anyone, but particularly for the positive. For the positive and nauseous-lucky you-Compazine is great, but check with your doc, certainly past one dose. It treats the symptom, not the sickness.

Don't Take It Lying Down

Assuming this is no longer a medical emergency, you probably fall into one of the following two italicized categories:

I'm sick and tired of just laying here, except for running to the john. How can I feel better, and still stay home?

(1) Old Wives' Remedies. Your mother (an old wife if there ever was one) knows things, as do my nice Afghani neighbors (who brew me a great curative tea). Boil rice. Wash it down with what you boiled it in. Sip low-fat chicken broth, or tea. Ham is good. Jello, bananas and plain yogurt are also good, as is plain toast (maybe with a bit of honey). Avoid anything fatty. We're trying to rebuild intestinal flora and fauna here, people. If you don't have any of these foodstuffs on hand, ask a friend to shop for you. Or you can always make a new friend by asking the stranger next door. (Remember to thank him/her profusely, and refuse the change.)

(2) That's Entertainment. The box. Duh. But some TV is better than others. Getting familiar with a soap is not a bad idea, because you might not kill yourself if it means you won't find out what happens to Erica at the trial. Otherwise try the History Channel. In my opinion, it's never boring. And if it's not your cup of tea, the narration is usually easy to doze off to. Best, of course, is a book, perfect for making you more interesting and bringing on the Zs.

(3) Clean Up. Make the bed, and throw those dirty clothes into the hamper. Take a shower. Try to vacuum a little, or wipe a dustrag over a lamp or a picture. You'll feel much better when you crawl back under the covers, even though you look like hell.

(4) Organize. (a) Put that last roll of pix in a photo album. and/or (b) Clean out that drawer. You can do both from bed, and if you stop in the middle, you'll feel you did something productive to earn that exhaustion. After you finish, periodically open the drawer or photo album and enjoy looking at your handiwork.

(5) The 20% rule. Remember this one, if only because I made it up: generally, after you feel your worst, you can depend on feeling about 20% better each new each successive day. Hold on to this concept when you think you'll never get better. When you are at about 50%, you're ready for the next category.

It's a Big World Out There

I am starting to feel vaguely human, and can even leave the house for a bit.

Now what?

(1) Woof/Meow. Your pup needs to go to the dog park. (For those who must stay commode-proximal, the one on Mulholland has two Port-o-Sans.) If you don't have a dog, think about getting one. If you do, but still can't face the park, pet your dog for 20 minutes and plead for his undying love. (He'll always say yes, unlike a significant other.) If you have a cat, clean his litter. Hasn't he suffered enough smelling you the past few days?

(2) I Got a Man Waiting For Me. Call your boyfriend at work and apologize for being such a moany brat, even if you haven't been. For the boyfriendless, invent a stalker to complain to your friends about. (No one can prove you didn't get those hang-ups.) I would hold off on sex with anyone but yourself for a few more days. You want to give 100%, not parasites, and the results aren't back yet.

(3) Fall Into the Net. You've probably checked your e-mail, but were too sick to write back. Here's your chance. Write a long, cathartic (for you, at least) letter bemoaning your bad lot. Then edit it, reducing the whine factor, and remember to ask how they are. Make specific references to their last missive, even if you cut and copy the main, pathetic body of your letter.

If you are Netless, there's a fine old invention that's still around called "the handwritten letter." Assuming your penmanship is not viewed as a hostile act (as is mine), it will be very appreciated by the recipient-much more than e-mail-and a 33ó stamp is affordable even for the most financially challenged.

Now take a well-deserved nap. Later you can go surfing. Try a search for your own name, and see how many of you there are, and where. Stupid but fun. (There is a cluster of me's in Michigan. What's that about?)

(4) Check the Office. Make sure to attempt a little troubleshooting and problem solving with a co-worker. Even if not taken up, the offer is appreciated. If you go into work, go in a half-day, if possible. You need rest. Ditto the gym. (If you don't work, see Dog Park, above. It's fun to go and watch the pure canine joy even if you are personally sans chien).

(5) Shop and drop. Go to the supermarket for aforementioned necessities. But bring that jar of change rotting on your dresser. Pour it into that machine thingy and with the money buy a luscious bouquet for the apartment/house. You need something to steel yourself with before you tackle the laundry. (You can also give flowers to the helpful neighbor if you owe thanks.)

Aren't You Glad You Listened?

The rule of thumb: Whatever else you don't feel like doing is likely what you need to try to do. (Just like in life.) For example, the last thing I felt like doing was writing this article, and I feel much better now that I've written it. Honest.

And one last thing: Call your Mom. She worries about you. Mark Olmsted is a screenwriter, novelist, former magazine editor, and someone's future lover. He can be e-mailed at makemarc@aol.com.

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ÆGIS is made possible through unrestricted grants from Roxane Laboratories, the National Library of Medicine, and donations from users like you. Always watch for outdated information. This article first appeared in 1999. This material is designed to support, not replace, the relationship that exists between you and your doctor.

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