(Written last Saturday, 1/24.)

Influenza A has come for my family.

My youngest woke up with pink cheeks last Sunday morning: red flag. Temperature in the 99s: not a fever, but definitely a red flag.

Flu season: red flag.

I dug up a covid/flu test and within thirty seconds the diagnosis was in: influenza A.

Today is Friday, so my youngest is on Day Six of the flu. My oldest is on Day Five. I am on Day Three. My husband is the last man standing.

You guys know I like to tell you long-winded stories about my life, and even influenza cannot change this about me. I present to you: All The Times That Casey Has Had The Flu.

December 2005

I was home for Christmas from my senior year at college. On December 23, my mother began to feel ill and soon became a part of the couch.

“That’s okay,” I said. “I’ll take care of you and make Christmas dinner.”

On Christmas Eve, I began to feel ill and soon became a part of the other couch.

“It’s okay,” I gasped through the fever. “My sister can take care of us and make Christmas dinner.” My sister’s eyes widened and she backed slowly down the stairs.

No, actually my sister took pretty good care of us, delivering Theraflu and water at regular intervals. This was my first time having the flu, and I was miserable with the fever. I remember being soaked in sweat for days, and so sick I couldn’t make it to my basement bedroom. I slept in my mom’s room on the main floor with her.

I don’t think we had Christmas dinner in the end.

November 2009

Anyone who has known me for more than ten minutes has already heard this story, but I’m going to tell it anyway.

My husband and I had just moved to a new apartment in Queens. Our furniture hadn’t been delivered from storage yet–we were temporarily sleeping on a borrowed air mattress with a set of sheets and only our coats for blankets. We had big plans to get some painting done before our stuff arrived, and we had walked back and forth to the Sherwin-Williams store with heavy paint buckets, paint supplies, and a really nice stepstool.

My husband started to feel ill almost immediately when we got back from the paint store. He became one with the air mattress quickly. I did not realize what was happening and instead of running to the local pharmacy for sick supplies, I foolishly started prepping for painting.

I was also sick the next day. And the day after. I think. We lost some days in there–I am still not sure how many. I mostly just remember waking up from fever dreams and being aware that the sheets were soaked and the air mattress was running out of air, but I wasn’t able to do anything about either of these problems. I don’t remember if I was even aware of my husband suffering on the other side of the air mattress.

I remember trying to take a shower on the first day that I was feeling better. I stood in the shower for about thirty seconds before realizing I had made a terrible mistake. I enjoyed a nice sit-down shower that day, and several days after that.

This was the sickest I have ever been, and I am a little surprised I didn’t die. We figured out later that we were likely part of the swine flu epidemic that had engulfed New York City that year.

This round of influenza has been significantly easier than my first two experiences, and it occurs to me that this is the first time I’ve gotten the flu since I started getting the annual flu shot in 2010. Like I said earlier, I’m on Day Three, and I’ve already showered standing up. I am going up and down stairs and cleaning up the kitchen again. A truly miraculous recovery.

We did eventually get the painting done in our new Queens apartment, after the furniture was delivered. And we still have that nice stepstool from that Sherwin-Williams. I think about the swine flu every time I use it.