|Gustave Leonard de Jonghe|
At some point on the plane ride home last night, I felt like I was dying. I'm actually not exaggerating, although I'm prone to drama. I had been feeling exhausted all day and attributed it to too little sleep and jet lag, two days indoors, the relentless gray skies of D.C., but around hour three of my flight, I felt that tingly feeling all over my body -- not a good tingling but a kind of warning that you're getting sick or you're already sick. I pushed it off for a bit, denied it but it kept coming and I nearly whimpered when I stood up to go to the bathroom. Halfway down the aisle, I stopped and turned around to go back to my seat because I knew I was going to faint. I made it to my seat and closed my eyes for the next few hours, feeling miserable and like I was going to die and I didn't care.
So, I'm home sweet home and have, perhaps, acquired the flu, but maybe only a mild version as I feel slightly better this morning and will, hopefully, live. I'm crawling into bed and staying there. I miss writing on my blog and I miss reading and commenting on yours. Hopefully, I'll be able to tell you about my trip and the great work being done for children with epilepsy and their families, but it's not going to be today.