Bleh
One "souvenir" from my recent trip to Xena Con was the dreaded lurgy. Probably picked up on the plane. I don't often get sick - injured, yeah, frequently, but not sick - so it always takes me by surprise when I do. This time it was a chest infection, a really nasty coughing-type infection - viral unfortunately, so there was no medical help possible, just cough syrup and rest. I thought I was ok to go back to work as soon as I arrived home from the USA.
I was wrong. The infection got worse. By last Thursday I was running the sort of fever with chills that makes you put on a t-shirt to go to bed but get up in the middle of the night to change it because it's soaked through. And the coughing was so bad that I couldn't get out of bed.
Lord knows how I got so bad, so quickly. Or how I even managed to be so run-down that I picked up the virus in the first place. My cousin's guess is that since I don't mix with large groups of people, because I no longer go clubbing or to pubs, (I stopped doing that, as I'd always promised myself I would, when I reached the same age as the year I was born - nothing is more pathetic than an old dyke chatting up young cuties - and I was damned if I was going to become that), I no longer get exposed to bugs and so no longer develop immunity.
I managed to get up, get showered and dressed on Friday. But then I only made it as far as the armchair. Sunday I finally left the house. Only to go as far as the supermarket for more cough medicine.
I finally went back to work yesterday. Though I was restricted in what I could do because I'd pulled a muscle in my chest through coughing. And it hurt every time I coughed. (Which I'm still doing every so often). Today it was hurting even worse.
So I called in at the Walk-in Centre on the way home.
I haven't pulled a muscle.
I've cracked two ribs.
Great.
There's nothing they can do for that either. So it's painkillers, try not to cough, breathe too deeply, or make any sudden movements. Don't do too much at work. And just wait for them to heal. I don't heal as quickly as I used to either. Getting older sucks.
But it's better than the alternative.
I was wrong. The infection got worse. By last Thursday I was running the sort of fever with chills that makes you put on a t-shirt to go to bed but get up in the middle of the night to change it because it's soaked through. And the coughing was so bad that I couldn't get out of bed.
Lord knows how I got so bad, so quickly. Or how I even managed to be so run-down that I picked up the virus in the first place. My cousin's guess is that since I don't mix with large groups of people, because I no longer go clubbing or to pubs, (I stopped doing that, as I'd always promised myself I would, when I reached the same age as the year I was born - nothing is more pathetic than an old dyke chatting up young cuties - and I was damned if I was going to become that), I no longer get exposed to bugs and so no longer develop immunity.
I managed to get up, get showered and dressed on Friday. But then I only made it as far as the armchair. Sunday I finally left the house. Only to go as far as the supermarket for more cough medicine.
I finally went back to work yesterday. Though I was restricted in what I could do because I'd pulled a muscle in my chest through coughing. And it hurt every time I coughed. (Which I'm still doing every so often). Today it was hurting even worse.
So I called in at the Walk-in Centre on the way home.
I haven't pulled a muscle.
I've cracked two ribs.
Great.
There's nothing they can do for that either. So it's painkillers, try not to cough, breathe too deeply, or make any sudden movements. Don't do too much at work. And just wait for them to heal. I don't heal as quickly as I used to either. Getting older sucks.
But it's better than the alternative.