Having come out the other side, here is a poem from Jeff Green that sums it up well.
In summary, initially the 24 hours are brutal on the body, the next 24 hours you feel battered and empty, then you feel tired and wiped out.
I’ve maintained the 48hours of self imposed quarantine since last dash to the loo and now I’m free to face the outside world again.
Keeping on top of hydration is the hardest but used my supply of High5 Zero.
Norovirus has halted my training for four days, enough, time to kill the virus start get back on track. Missed Christmas 🎄 dinners and social nights. Better now than Christmas holidays I suppose.
When the nasty norovirus finds a victim for its fun
He may find himself exploding like a dirty water gun
In between evacuations he will find a fitful rest
But it’s not a bowl of roses, as this poet can attest
When the nasty norovirus holds a victim in its grips
It wont be romantic wordplay that is falling from his lips
Sitting down composing love songs is the last thing you will do
When your bum is firmly welded to the loo
Well that nasty norovirus may be vanishingly small
But it tried to stop me walking and I had a nasty fall
Now my guts are dancing rumbas and I’m feeling bloody sick
So I hope my antibodies can defeat it bloody quick
I assume that norovirus will eventually let go
And I’ll witness the cessation of the most unpleasant flow
But until I feel I’m better I will not come out to play
If you’ve any working braincells you will stay the hell away!
© Jeff Green thoughts • personal • illness