WILLIAMSVILLE — I gave my husband the swine flu. I don't know who gave it to me. I could have caught it at the local high school, when I gave a guest lecture, or from my students at the library, the senior center, or the prison. I could have caught it from one of my kids or their friends. Or I could have caught it at the grocery store, the gas pump, or the post office. I'll never know.
At first, I didn't even know I was sick. One of our kids had been home from college with three friends over the weekend. They helped us slaughter chickens, fence the orchard, and pick apples. We also hiked, paddled, and played in the sunshine. Come Monday, I thought I was just tired. Then I started to cough.
I'll also never know who else I may have infected. Since a cough is not the chills of the flu, I reasoned, I continued to teach, although I avoided shaking hands, was careful to cough into my elbow, and kept my distance.
But it was probably already too late. According to the CDC, people infected with either the seasonal flu and the H1N1 virus can infect others before getting sick, so I was probably infectious for two days before I felt sick, and three days before I admitted it.
By the time I returned home Tuesday night, though, I felt it. The proverbial steamroller had rolled all over me. I pulled on my expedition-weight long underwear, a fleece hat, and wool socks, then buried myself in bed and shivered.
“You might even have H1N1,” my physician husband said, with clinical interest.
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I certainly didn't have the ordinary, seasonal, flu, because I've been vaccinated against it ever since my last bout, 15 years earlier.
That was back in 1995, when I had three young children and was too sick to take care of them. During that illness, I lived an Alice-in-Wonderland existence, where the bathroom off my bedroom relocated what seemed like miles away, and the rest of my house moved into the next county.
I ached so badly, I imagined the peaceful scene of a nearby cemetery to calm me. I suddenly understood how some of the early settlers viewed death as a release.
Once I recovered from that flu, I vowed, “Never again,” and I'd been lining up for a seasonal flu shot ever since. This year was no different, except for the threat of swine flu.
Frankly, from all I read, I was more concerned for my children's sake than my own. Healthy, middle-aged people like me were not considered high risk, not the way my kids, aged 18, 20, and 21, were. I figured I would get a second shot, specifically for the H1N1 virus, after all the other high-risk groups got theirs.
All I remember about Wednesday and Thursday is one of the cats purring on the pillow next to me. On and off, I read a big, fat novel that's been on my night table for most of a year. I also stared at the ceiling, where I noticed well-established cobwebs. Just the thought of sweeping them away was exhausting.
By Friday, my fever was gone, but my husband had started to cough. I urged him not to go to work - the very same advice he gives his patients day after day. He wore a face mask, saw a few patients, came home, and went to bed. The next day, his culture came back positive for swine flu.
Meanwhile, my eldest child and a friend came home to finish packing for a three-month trip to Rwanda. I didn't want them to get sick while away, and I didn't want them to spread swine flu in Africa. I didn't want to add to this global pandemic, so I stayed in my room while the household pulsed around me.
There was nothing I could do.
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There's not much any of us can do. I'm a diligent hand-washer. I've taught myself to cough and sneeze into my sleeve. Rude as it may seem, I no longer shake hands. And when I realized I was sick, I stayed home.
But even staying home doesn't ensure that I'm not putting people at risk. So far, my daughter at college and her friends are fine, and the travelers have arrived safely in Kigali, in good health.
Given all the media hype about the swine flu, I expected it to be worse than it was, but then, I was healthy to start with, and fairly stoic. Nevertheless, I lost three days of work, and I infected my family. And I probably infected others, just as someone else infected me. What's remarkable about the H1N1 virus is how effectively it spreads.
As far as flus go, it wasn't the worst I've ever endured. But like all flus, there's only one cure: time, aided by fluids and bed rest. These humble, time-honored measures do work in a straightforward case, but they require patience.
And mild as this illness was, it triggered my asthma, which had been dormant for years. For people with compromised health, a bout of any flu is a serious affliction. Prevention is unquestionably the best medicine, and the only sure way to avoid swine flu is to have the vaccine.
I would have if I could have, but the illness caught me first. Now, having weathered H1N1, I should be immune.