Improvements.
I've spent the past week sick to my bones and mostly in bed, a shivering, feverish wreck with a machine gun cough and congested pipes. Three days' sick leave Monday through Wednesday, of which I don't remember anything but a splitting headache flaring up from bad to worse at the winter sunshine sneaking past the blinds and a vague recollection of getting up on Tuesday to pay the rent online. A truly horrid, horrid day commenced on Thursday, most of which I spent back at work on and in a vile black mood and no physical strength to speak of left. A flight of stairs left me panting and sweating, but as I had no fever, fit for work I was. Yup. Uh huh.
You can imagine my delight waking up this morning feeling mostly like myself. No nausea, no vertigo, no woozy sense of "better grab a handful of the floor, the world's gone wonky". I was actually peckish for the first time in a week. (I'm mostly synonymous with my perennial appetite[s].) Granted, my flat looks like it needs both the tender mercies of an exorcist and PTSD counselling, but I feel like a person and not a bag of woe, and that is indeed something in my book. It's been a long-arse week feeling like I'm running a gauntlet with blinders on.
I'm not the girliest of girls, goodness knows, but I'm sitting here in a homemade oatmeal-and-honey facial mask watching Queen's Live at Wembley Stadium DVD, looking patently ridiculous and feeling rather nice and unapologetically gleeful if thoroughly knackered, wanting nothing but a good cup of tea which unfortunately isn't happening (I've coughed my throat rather raw, and some blood is still coming up occasionally, ick) - but the week's heading into the right direction, finally. My way.
(Watching Freddie getting his Little Richard on is definitely helping. Hee.)
This was first posted here.
Talk back, or see what others have had to say... (
slips of tongue)
You can imagine my delight waking up this morning feeling mostly like myself. No nausea, no vertigo, no woozy sense of "better grab a handful of the floor, the world's gone wonky". I was actually peckish for the first time in a week. (I'm mostly synonymous with my perennial appetite[s].) Granted, my flat looks like it needs both the tender mercies of an exorcist and PTSD counselling, but I feel like a person and not a bag of woe, and that is indeed something in my book. It's been a long-arse week feeling like I'm running a gauntlet with blinders on.
I'm not the girliest of girls, goodness knows, but I'm sitting here in a homemade oatmeal-and-honey facial mask watching Queen's Live at Wembley Stadium DVD, looking patently ridiculous and feeling rather nice and unapologetically gleeful if thoroughly knackered, wanting nothing but a good cup of tea which unfortunately isn't happening (I've coughed my throat rather raw, and some blood is still coming up occasionally, ick) - but the week's heading into the right direction, finally. My way.
(Watching Freddie getting his Little Richard on is definitely helping. Hee.)
This was first posted here.
Talk back, or see what others have had to say... (
slips of tongue)