I knew I was in trouble Saturday night when my fever spiked to 102.7, which are also the call numbers to a local radio station I used to listen to years ago.  If you had asked me if that station and I could ever cross paths again I would have quickly answered “never.  I now have taste” What is the lesson here?   Never say never because as soon as you do, you’re opening the door to the inevitable.

I’ve been sicker than sick all week.  I won’t bore you with the details because they’re not pretty.  But – as I’m writing this from bed in small spurts, since that’s all my energy level will allow – I am definitely on the mend.

I found myself wondering… how could I go out to a delicious dinner with friends Friday night and get so sick 12 hours later?  How did that happen?  Did I kiss (or even eat) a toad? (No).  Did I say something snider than usual for which I am getting karmic payback?  (no more than usual).  Did I somehow become a member of the cast of “Contagion 2” without my agent letting me know? (uh, no, there will be no sequel).

Then this was….suddenly? out of nowhere?  You betcha.  Ugh…it was HER.  Okay fine, it wasn’t.  But still (cheap plug), how can you NOT watch Julianne Moore as Sarah Palin this weekend in the HBO movie “Game Change?”

The correct answer to all this, as Donald Rumsfeld famously understated when asked about the awful stuff that he was accused of causing in the Iraq War, is “shit happens.”  Indeed.

What follows is a diary of delirium that you too could experience if you have to do battle with the notorious virus I hearby dub the 102.7.  Hopefully, it will provide some comfort for you in your time of insanity.

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An unnamed virus, a severely unconservative sinus infection and myself are fighting for dominance in an ever-shrinking space called my body.  The doctor describes to me what this is about.  I can’t tell you what he says because his dialogue is reverberating like God if he lived in L.A., worked at Cedars Sinai Hospital and was a Jewish allergist/immunologist,/ENT guy, three very unlikely scenarios.

I suddenly think about Alanis Morissette when she was playing God in Kevin Smith’s “Dogma” and want to pray to her to get better.  In fact, I think I will if I ever get home and can figure out just what cool thing would convince her I’m ready to turn over a new leaf and stop listening to Adele for five minutes.  Maybe promising to stop listening to Adele for five minutes would do it, I think.

I’m told I have to eat something before taking all this medicine. You might as well have just told me I have to join the Tea Party, that’s how dizzy, nauseous and awful I feel.

I actually woke up and saw a mannequin, an escaped mental patient and Dr. Evil on TV accepting wins in the Republican primaries.  And that a Black man was president!  I must be sicker than I thought.

One stomach flu away from my ideal weight?  No, this has taken me way under my ideal weight and only a few pizzas are going to bring it back, when and if I can ever stand the sight or one again.  (My bony naked self is scaring the children, if there were any)

I haven’t had a regular coke in 15 years but I felt so queasy the only thing I could think of was a childhood memory of the coke syrup from the drug store my mother gave me by spoon to settle my stomach.  Guess what?  It still does the trick.  I live on small sips of flat and unflat coke and tiny bits of crackers for 2 days and will never scoff at full test again. Could it be after all this, Twinkies are really good for you?

MSNBC has the same 12-15 people commenting on the same 12-15 stories ALL day.  Sometimes the hosts of shows actually turn up on other shows as the interviewees.  It’s kind of like having the gay couple from “Modern Family” talking about Prop 8 to the “too busy with their own lives” characters on an episode of “Happy Endings” and then watching them all chat about it once again on “Jimmy Kimmel Live.”

Somehow my doctor managed to give me the same cough medicine I used to gag from when I was 8 years old.  Either that or all prescription cough medicine tastes this way.  I involuntarily find myself shuddering each time I have to choke it down, much like Lucy did from a dosage of Vitametavegamin.  Unfortunately, the alcohol content in my medicine is zero.  Bring back the 1950s.

I had a lot of my own creative work I was going to accomplish next week – the week I had off from school and everything else.  Now it will be filled reading the creative work of others – despite the fact I preach that one can always find time to do their own creative work.  I am no longer listening to a word I have to say.

Kelly Clarkson is advising contestants on “The Voice” and Mary J. Blige is giving pointers to singers on “American Idol.”  Shouldn’t it be the other way around?

It’s amazing how much dogs need to go out when you’re around.  Who walks them when they’re home alone during the day?

I went to bed last night at 12:38 and woke up only to see the clock at the exact same time.  Assuming time has stood still or I have a broken clock.  Until the Chair’s spouse calls to inform that it is no longer nighttime but the middle of the afternoon.  I am now Bobbie Templeton from “Carnal Knowledge.” (Look it up).

Beauty sleep can actually make you more tired and less beautiful uh, handsome.

The phone woke me up from one of my many “naps” and I actually hung up on the volunteer asking for money to support human rights.  My only excuse is I don’t feel human any longer.

I wonder why I haven’t heard from some of the people in my life and then realize I haven’t answered phone calls or emails all week.  Still, I don’t think that’s any excuse for them not to be suffering like this.

I walked upstairs to turn up the heat and collect my favorite snuggle blanket for watching TV despite the fact that it is 75 degrees outside.  By the time I get back to my bed I am dizzy and tired.  Maybe I’m not getting enough sleep?

I have a burst of energy at 10pm and check emails, drink some soda and play a few rounds of “Words with Friends.”  Even on my deathbed, I am still winning.  That is really all that matters.

It’s 2 am and I can’t sleep.  How can that be??

I manage to wake up at 12:38 again and manage to once again feel like I was hit by a truck.  This is what I get for bragging about “Words with Friends.”  It takes me 15 minutes to gather and take all the pills, do the rinses and the inhalers.   Am I 85 or simply middle-aged?  Am I a Man or a very very old Muppet?

Once the meds kick in I’m feeling better and decide I might need to get back to doing some of the exercising I used to do daily before I contracted the virus from hell.  I start to attempt a single push up and immediately realize Muppets can’t exercise because they don’t have legs.   Thanks, Kermit.

I should read one of the many books I say I’m dying to read but nothing comes to mind so I begin the only thing that makes me happy.  Channel surfing and condemning everything I see.  I am doing EVERYTHING I tell my students not to do. “F.”

I am starting to feel better today and am grateful modern medical science exists and I didn’t have to rely on leeches.  I am giving myself one more day for insults and channel surfing so don’t get in my way.

I might extend the insult deadline to Saturday night so I can enjoy (one last plug) Julianne Moore as Sarah Palin in HBO’s “Game Change.”  I will have washed my TV snuggie by then, will be in full command of my faculties and will report back.   Wink.