A post from Beyond the Grave... The GRAVE I TELL YOU! THE GRAVE!
Anybody who's had any form of human contact with me in the past 4 days can probably tell you that i've sounded and looked just a teensy bit rough.
And by "teensy bit" i mean to say that I'd probably sound (and look!) better if i'd been hit by a dumptruck carrying five and a half metric tonnes of buffalo. Why buffalo? Fucked if i know... it's just one of the many things I've had a feverish dream about since i came down with this god forsaken illness.
Keith started the whole thing about two weeks ago. I got out of bed one morning, and there he was, looking for all the world like a normal healthy boy. but then he opened his mouth to say something, and out came this ghastly cough. I backed away slowly, turned, and ran as fast as i could.
I thought that was the end of it. But no. I came home to find him wrapped in a blanket,shivering and muttering something about death. My family hid all the sharp objects in the house. I kept my distance. THEN Grandma started with the coughing. Then Gregory....
This tuesday, around noon, I knew that i was fucked. little things started to ache... my fingers, my back, anything that could bend. Then the coughing started... then the sudden awareness that i felt like pond scum. Pond scum that was having a very very bad day.
"Are you feeling alright, Colin?" became the Question du jour.
"uuugh" Was all i could answer
No big deal. I was sure that my usual bad luck with illness would save me much torment. Wednesday was my day off... I'd be dead sick all day wednesday, and then healthy as the healthiest horse ever by thursday.
Thursday Morning.
Me: John... I won't be coming in this morning.
John: Why
Me: HACK COUGH WHEEZE HACK COUGH COUGH COUGH
John: Right. Feel Better soon.
And then i went back into my feverish dreams about being chased through jungles filled with... coniferous trees. I seem to recall waking up at least fifty times to cough and say 'What the Fuck before passing out again.
Friday was the same thing... more fever, more coughing. Mom finally caught it. I was pleased to hear her say 'Are you spending another day up here in bed?...Good.. you'll be the first to know when i die'
"You don't die mom.. that's the worst part of this whole thing... It just doesn't let you die"
Around dinner time, My bodies need for fuel for more coughing finally forced me out of bed. I managed to talk my father out of going out for Mcdonalds ("I'll heave on you... I don't care where you are... I will vomit on you until every last iota of Mcdonalds has been vomited onto you")And he (cruelly) decided on Joeys only. Which, despite the large amount of grease wasn't so bad. I think i managed to eat three whole fries and at least one medium sized piece of fish before i started to feel as if the world was going to end.
Of course, now i'm stuck here in 'i'm going to die' mode. again. and i can't sleep... which is why i'm updating my live journal.
but I think that about does it for the update.. and for Mr.Christopher... Who i'm sure is thinking 'He's probably done nothing but play WoW the whole time...' Here's the run down of my personal activities
Hours spent playing WoW - 0
Hours spent wishing i was dead - 56
hours spend coughing - to many
hours spent shivering (even though i'm wearing approximately 800 sweaters) - 30
Hours spent sweating (why am i wearing so many goddamn sweaters?!) - 30
hours spent plotting keiths death - 48
hours spent trying to figure out where the coniferous jungle filled with buffalo came from - 2
that's it for now guys... i'm going back to bed... expect my triumphant coughing return on Monday.
And by "teensy bit" i mean to say that I'd probably sound (and look!) better if i'd been hit by a dumptruck carrying five and a half metric tonnes of buffalo. Why buffalo? Fucked if i know... it's just one of the many things I've had a feverish dream about since i came down with this god forsaken illness.
Keith started the whole thing about two weeks ago. I got out of bed one morning, and there he was, looking for all the world like a normal healthy boy. but then he opened his mouth to say something, and out came this ghastly cough. I backed away slowly, turned, and ran as fast as i could.
I thought that was the end of it. But no. I came home to find him wrapped in a blanket,shivering and muttering something about death. My family hid all the sharp objects in the house. I kept my distance. THEN Grandma started with the coughing. Then Gregory....
This tuesday, around noon, I knew that i was fucked. little things started to ache... my fingers, my back, anything that could bend. Then the coughing started... then the sudden awareness that i felt like pond scum. Pond scum that was having a very very bad day.
"Are you feeling alright, Colin?" became the Question du jour.
"uuugh" Was all i could answer
No big deal. I was sure that my usual bad luck with illness would save me much torment. Wednesday was my day off... I'd be dead sick all day wednesday, and then healthy as the healthiest horse ever by thursday.
Thursday Morning.
Me: John... I won't be coming in this morning.
John: Why
Me: HACK COUGH WHEEZE HACK COUGH COUGH COUGH
John: Right. Feel Better soon.
And then i went back into my feverish dreams about being chased through jungles filled with... coniferous trees. I seem to recall waking up at least fifty times to cough and say 'What the Fuck before passing out again.
Friday was the same thing... more fever, more coughing. Mom finally caught it. I was pleased to hear her say 'Are you spending another day up here in bed?...Good.. you'll be the first to know when i die'
"You don't die mom.. that's the worst part of this whole thing... It just doesn't let you die"
Around dinner time, My bodies need for fuel for more coughing finally forced me out of bed. I managed to talk my father out of going out for Mcdonalds ("I'll heave on you... I don't care where you are... I will vomit on you until every last iota of Mcdonalds has been vomited onto you")And he (cruelly) decided on Joeys only. Which, despite the large amount of grease wasn't so bad. I think i managed to eat three whole fries and at least one medium sized piece of fish before i started to feel as if the world was going to end.
Of course, now i'm stuck here in 'i'm going to die' mode. again. and i can't sleep... which is why i'm updating my live journal.
but I think that about does it for the update.. and for Mr.Christopher... Who i'm sure is thinking 'He's probably done nothing but play WoW the whole time...' Here's the run down of my personal activities
Hours spent playing WoW - 0
Hours spent wishing i was dead - 56
hours spend coughing - to many
hours spent shivering (even though i'm wearing approximately 800 sweaters) - 30
Hours spent sweating (why am i wearing so many goddamn sweaters?!) - 30
hours spent plotting keiths death - 48
hours spent trying to figure out where the coniferous jungle filled with buffalo came from - 2
that's it for now guys... i'm going back to bed... expect my triumphant coughing return on Monday.