The oral thermometers that have sat upon my night table for more than week announced this morning – both in Fahrenheit and Celsius – that I could return to work. I consulted them several times, and the answer was beeped and rebeeped until there could be no room for doubt. Placing one shaky leg in front of the other, I wended my way to the shower stall and let the hot water wash away the remaining vestiges of bed rest and ague. It was time to rejoin the world of the healthy.Feeling only slightly apprehensive, I turned the car key in the ignition, hoping I could remember how to drive an automatic. Everything felt so shaky, so raw, so unprecedented. After a week in bed, nothing felt completely familiar. I mean, the bank was still there and people were walking their dogs along the perimeter of the park, but there was something alien about reentering the world of timeclocks and take-out lunches, manicure appointments and rent deadlines. And although this was the first morning that my body was not down for the count in a haze of narcotic cough and cold medication, my thinking still felt a little fuzzy.I don’t know how to take my own blood pressure, but my doctor had warned me the previous Thursday to start drinking a lot, lest I have nothing left with which to fight a secondary infection. Somehow he felt that a count of 90/56 was reason for concern. Sheesh! Standing or walking for even short periods of time still wipes me out.