I decided to go into work this morning, even though I suffered and probably still suffering from the worst stomach flu ever since Friday. The whole of the weekend I spent horizontal, with frequent runs to the toilette. The entire time trying to figure out what I ate, or came across or touched to cause such an illness. I don’t handle the flu – stomach or otherwise – very well. I mean really who does? But when you lay dead to the world, with curtains drawn, and absolutely no tolerance for sound, cocooned in bed, sweating and cold at the same time – you actually begin to question life in the not-so-great manner. You start by thinking about how you’re getting old, and weaker and less tolerant of pain, and then you jump into thinking about the choices you’ve made, and the mistakes which have cost you and/or led you to better places? Family, aging parents, life after a pet dying, you needing to draft a will sooner than later, and then you realize you are …