Saturday, March 07, 2009

Blogging from bed, diary of a lurgi.

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.

13 comments:

Holemaster said...

That sounds like Man-Flu but how? I mean you're a woman. Man-Flu is serious business. You need a lovely caring woman to look after you and tend to your every need, make you tea, soup, ice cream, and go get you DVDs and answer all your phone calls and stuff.

laughykate said...

My mother has sent me a pile of books for my Flushelf (flu-bookshelf). That helped. And if she could work out a way to send frozen soup in the mail, she'd send that too.

Daily Daydreamer said...

Hi..came across your blog through Holemaster!

The only thing worse than man-flu is woman-flu (cos it's real...)
Hope you start to feel better soon!!

laughykate said...

Why hello!I think I got the last ten years of being flu-free (as opposed to being cold-free, generally I tie on at least one decent cold a year) all rolled into one. I got the flu-tsunami!

tinman18 said...

Poor you. I hope you're better soon.

Just as a matter of interest, what were you planning to do with the policeman and the police-dog?

laughykate said...

We were going out on the beat with him. How cool would have that been? Spending Friday night with Officer Plod and Rover and chasing after bad guys.

whoopsadaisy said...

Aww poor Kate, that sounds horrible :( I hope those antibiotics kick in soon.
Take care.

laughykate said...

Oh thank you. I think they're starting to work. Getting from my bedroom to the kitchen isn't quite the Herulean task that it was yesterday. However I do still feel like I am living through a haze, like some ghost trapped in a parallel universe.

flowerman said...

Kate you obviously haven't remembered that old mans undies boiled up with garlic ginger & lemons keeps all the man/woman illnesses at bay. Ditch the antibiotics or you will end up resistant to them and you will develop a super bug that might take us all out. Always go the undies. flowerman.

Holemaster said...

Yep, that's man flu alright.

laughykate said...

Old man undies tea! I had forgotten about that. And before you people think I am a complete mental - it didn't actually have old man's undies in it,but just looked like it did.

Holemaster, I like to think of it as tsumamiflu. But feeling much much better now. Except that I feel like I have a massive hangover, which is so wrong (cause a plate of chips ain't going to make me feel any better).

Also, I noticed that I was talking in an earlier comment about the journey from the bedrooom to the kitchen being a Herulean effort ? That's Hercules' brother.

Holemaster said...

I thought his brother was Percival.

laughykate said...

Oh, I think you're thinking of his half brother (who also goes by Iphicles).