If we’re friend’s on Facebook—and if we’re not, we should be!—you probably have been following the saga of my walking pneumonia. Long story short, I started feeling crummy about a week ago, but as is my way, I figured I could power through it, working a regular day, burning the candle at both ends, and just generally ignoring it. My doctor confirmed what my mother (not a doctor, by the way) had diagnosed: I had walking pneumonia. She (the doctor, not my mother) was seeing lots of cases of it in her practice and it was basically characterized by a persistent, non-productive cough, fatigue, chills, and congestion. Check, check, check, and double check.
Upon getting the diagnosis, I collapsed into bed like a house of cards, where I have been ever since. I can’t remember the last time I stayed in my pajamas for days on end; even when I was undergoing treatment for cancer, I got up every day, got dressed, and combed what little hair I had. With this illness, though, I figured my body was telling me something and it wasn’t good. I needed to take it easy.
Fortunately, I just bought myself a MacBook and the Barbieris, for the first time in the new millennium, are wireless, so I could keep up with the goings on in the world through my trusty computer. On a lark, I started following Twitter more closely, if only to see what all the rage was. I even tweeted a few times myself, things along the lines of “I don’t feel good” and “someone bring me pretzels” but I only have a few followers and no one really seemed to care as evidenced by the fact that nobody brought me pretzels. But after following a bunch of people for several days, I discovered that tweeters fall into a few different categories, some of which I will describe for you here.