Sick by the numbers

This flu I have had is the sickest I can remember being in my adult life. I know that sounds dramatic, but I am not by nature a sickly person, and I don't count painful or lengthly post-childbirth maladies, even with a c-section, as being "sick." Here's the score on what has gone on since Wednesday, when this thing really blew up:

5 number of days I have been wholly incomprehensible, incoherent, and otherwise cognitively disengaged

8 number of pajama/housepant/tshirts that I sweated through, unsuccessfully, in an attempt to break my fever

8 number of showers I took to facilitate this effort plus get the fever gink off me, as well as drain my ever-pounding impacted sinuses

5 number of meals I ate, in order: soup, 1/2 a bowl of coco puffs (a mistake, and Emma ate the other half), toast (also a mistake, the texture of bread nearly killed me), soup, and soup

6 cups of tea, which went down ok, but because I wasn't eating anything, gave me a little heartburn on top of everything else

1 box of tissues

4 packs of nighttime theraflu, which saved me

3 kids who still love their unfun, sick mother

6 average number of daylight hours I was passed out on the couch or in bed

1 vaporizer, which like a birdbrain I didn't remember we had until today, when I should have been using it all weekend

1 great husband who took care of everything, and therefore saved my universe