Saturday night: On a job, staying in a shearers' cottage in the middle of nowhere.
Why am I coughing? Please don't tell me that's a sore throat making itself known.And if it is, could you kindly fuck off. Lots to do this week.
Sunday night: Phone call from friend.
'What's wrong with you? Have you been crying?'
'No, throat, bit of
lurgi. I am fine.'
'You bloody better be fine by Tuesday.'
'I will be, even if I'm not, it's hardly going to kill me and they've invented
Nurofen.'
'Great, what time does your flight get in ?'
'Not sure, about the same time as yours, doesn't it?'
'Something like that. Meet you at the luggage carousel.'
Monday morning.
Uh oh. Throat worse, cough
developed. Body feeling like it's been run over a small elephant.I try and talk myself out of it. 'Ya big girl's blouse, it's just a Hollywood.Nothing wrong with you.GET OUT OF BED NOW.'
I do as I'm told, get out of bed for, oh, approximately five minutes, do a u-turn and sleep till 11. Go to work, come home at 4 and sleep till 6. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME? I NEVER SLEEP DURING DAY.
Tuesday morning.
I sound like a man and body feels like it's been run over by larger elephant, drag it out of bed by ten. Firmly ignore all pains, hoover large amounts of painkillers and partake in day as planned. Bed closer to 3 than 2 a.m.
(In my defence Your Honour, the others stayed out till 5. And I'm sorry but I'm not going to let some pesky snot-cold stop me from doing what I want to. Besides, it was a big night for a friend).Wednesday.
Coughing up new civilisations. Ears gone. Feeling
spinnie and out-of-body like. Would like to crawl into a dark hole and emerge, say, around October.
Thursday.
The thought of getting from bed to loo is exhausting. Where is my mother? (Oh that's right I'm an adult and we live in different islands). Crawl out of bed to see doctor.
'You've got a raging temperature, a sinus infection, a blah
de blah blah blah blah, a blah and pass the nuts, but not before you've gone home and confined yourself to bed.'
'Do you reckon I will be able to go out with the policeman and his
police dog from 3 pm till 1 a.m tomorrow?'
She just looked at me.
Friday.
Wake up with a steamer of a headache at 5 a.m. How does that work? Did I do some sleep-drinking? So far the most sneezes I've done consecutively has been twelve. Upper body hurts from coughing/sneezing. When I find the fucker driving the train who ran me over I will kill him. Secretly, still think I am a bit of a Hollywood and wonder if I could have done job with police dog handler. Have shower about 1 p.m. Go to work. Back by 3. Still think I could have done job. Oh, look there is my bed. Maybe a little lie down and a wee re-.
Wake up at 5.30 p.m.
Phone call from friends, 'Snap to it, we're coming round to pick you up and take you out for dinner. It'll be quick and we won't be late.'
I decline.
'You
must be sick.'
Watching DVD, vision a bit
fecked and decide that it would be really helpful would be if the remote had a button that you could push to make your television larger.
Saturday.
This is ridiculous. When will these sodding
antibiotics work?
Being sick sucks.
That's all.
