I've had, have flu. The real deal. The lie in your pit, bone-ache, sweaty-cold, strange-dreams hellishness; too tired to sleep, too sleepy to do much more than watch the ceiling. I've had to renounce any hold on life.
There was stuff that I had to do, had to do. Stuff didn't happen because I wasn't there to see that it did. Whatever has happened or hasn't happened I can't care about at the moment.
Others will care, they will blame, they will go out of their way to make me suffer for being ill. people are like that now-a-days: willing to take credit for any successes that you have, right up until the point where you fail. When they will happily slip knives into your carcass. The people who will sip sherry at your funeral while pursing their lips about the fact that some of the celebrants wear bad trousers.
Support system? The rope that hangs you. Asking for help is painting a target on your face. Then they are on you like a bike of wasps, to take away anything that they might have promised, for you lied, because you had to ask for help.
I give up.
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Illness is a funny thing. When I was hairdressing, customers would say 'why don't you go home when you've finished my hair?' not, 'don't worry about my hair, I'll come back. Go rest...'. As long as they got what they wanted, they weren't concerned about those lining up to be next....
In life you need to learn when to step back - or you'll keep getting bitten on the bum.
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Poor Neil. Hope you feel better soon.