Influenza: Under the influence of A. Who or what? On the second day, if not the first, as you struggle to quit the bed for the small room across the landing where you keep your toothbrush and Fiacla, inter alia, "A, Ah, Ahh" escapes in various dialect versions as muscles and the rest of that apparatus agonisingly contract in protest at any movement. 'Flu, for short. Gripe, in various Latin languages, because she does grip (gripe is feminine gender, what else?).
Until last year I had not fallen under that particular influence for more than 20 years but, during last autumn's Goldener Oktober in southern Germany I was alarmed at a front-page news item in the local zeitung, so alarmed that I made it my business to understand (ja, verstehen, to stand under, beneath, from Old English understanden; what a strange concept; to twig on, an dtuigeann tu?), ja wohl, to comprehend completely the dire warning, accompanied by the reminder that "the worst global plague since the Black Death" of the Middle Ages, the 'flu epidemic of 1918-19, had taken some 15 million human lives.
Powerful virus
But that which was coming our way was an even more powerful virus than the weakling of 1919, according to the German paper. We were all advised to have ourselves inoculated, if possible, or else to go to live in an otherwise uninhabited island for about six months.
As is known, perhaps, the health authorities for some years past have been advising the elderly to avail themselves of the inoculation defence. When my wife, slightly less elderly than I, decided to have it, and then began to exert pressure all round, I surrendered. I was given a light jab on the right arm and told that it might feel slightly uncomfortable for 24 hours, but nothing worse. That was in November.
In early February she, the 'flu, made a few devious passes at me but, being a mere man, I thought little of these light, tentative contacts - sudden exhaustion, shivering, loss of interest in usual pursuits, but quite transitory.
These attacks would last a mere few hours in the late evening or a little bit before usual bedtime, to be gone by morning. I thought it might be some sort of allergy, from a shampoo, or whatever, or that a wee dram of whiskey might have sent some germs running. But then, one evening, she hit hard and I fell. Next morning, trying to get across to that small room across the landing, I knew I had it, despite the inoculation.
The medical people are quite explicit: Inoculation may ward the thing off but, because of the rapid mutation, it is difficult, if not impossible, to assemble an invincible defence.
Inoculation
My friend Dr Niall O Cleirigh, writing in Foinse just as I was taking to my bed, said the inoculation would ensure that, should she come to you, she would not be as demanding as she would tend to be without the jab.
His advice was to take to the bed, keep warm, take medicinal tablets as directed, and hot drinks regularly. To this I added maintaining bed heat throughout the night and, on occasion, through the day, by means of the electric blanket and by the drinking of some whiskey and other alcohol.
She abandoned me after a full week. According to less fortunate, uninoculated friends, she had been fairly charitable to me during the rather brief relationship. Adios, companera! Her effects included inhibition of muscles, alternate attacks of extreme cold and heat, lack of interest even in reading a book or having a meal. I became more aware than ever before of street noises, especially that car alarm (or house alarm?) which came to me for hours through the double glazing.
However, I was very grateful to be able to hear all of Bocanegra on FM-3, and much else of interest and charm, particularly on Raidio na Gaeltachta.
Then I had a week's copies of The Irish Times to get through, God help me, for who could not but fall under the spell of the tribunals? They're not all with O'Leary, in the grave!
What I had feared most from my bed companion was a frontal attack on the bronchial system which youthful smoking had undermined. I stopped active smoking in the early 1970s but not soon enough to avoid the dividends. As for passive smoking, unfortunately it is hard to avoid it because of so many selfish fools about us.
No cough
Apparently, the inoculation protected me from the traditional 'flu attack on the bronchial system. My nose was never drier, my catarrh, apparently, having been suspended for the duration. I had no racking cough. When I got up after that week in bed I felt wonderful, ready for anything.
Dr Niall was right, in my case, anyway: The inoculation certainly sub-edited and removed the worst passages of what certainly, according to accounts, can be a fatal illness, especially for the elderly, and my age is 77.
Therefore, I intend asking for another jab this month of September, if something else doesn't let me get that far. And now, away before me to sweet beds of flowers.