Friday, January 27, 2017
Oh the misery.
Oh the hacking.
Oh the sleepless nights.
And sleep filled days.
The pity pot.
Grandgirl arrived to great excitement on Sunday.
She and Daughter hung out in my house until Tuesday.
She'd arrived with the remnants of some kind of bug.
Non-infectious, we believed.
Mine started on Tuesday. Grew to an unmistakeable fever by Wednesday, was full-fledged by Thursday and today, Friday, has developed fresh symptoms like stomach let down.
All the bodily functions we take for granted now become questionable in execution.
I'm the type who hates being catered to even though many offers have been flung through the phone and on media.
I am completely uncivil and unfriendly and unsocial in my illness and the slightest effort thrown in these directions sends me spinning downwards.
So I Coventry myself and wander around the house quite aimlessly, unable to read or knit or concentrate on anything stimulating on Netflix.
I collapse regularly in a heap on my bed exhausted from the effort it took to get there.
So yeah. A bit of a whine.
Because I know you're all far away and can't knock on my door with a cheerful countenance and chicken soup.