Do you remember the feeling you used to get at the end of a uni term? A sense of relief, that assignments, dissertations and lectures could be forgotten, for ooohh about three months. All that lay ahead was long, lazy summer days and a few extra shifts at ‘the Saturday job’. Ahhh.
And then, out of nowhere, it struck… a stinking cold. It’s as though your immune system was waiting for a break in the norm to pack its bags and take a vacation, allowing all those nasty germs and bacteria to take a hold.
The water infection which I thought I’d gotten rid of a few weeks ago came back with a vengeance. To say it wasn’t much fun the first time around would be an understatement. Love of my Life went to see my Trainee Father-in-law (i.e. his Dad) and I stayed home to try to make myself feel better. When Love of my Life came home and found me curled up in a ball in tears because my stomach hurt so much he wanted to cart me off to A&E.
This time I took no chances, heading to the doctors straight-away to get my mitts on some magical antibiotics. But whilst I’m sure they’re helping I have been totally KO’d for the past two days. Sleeping?! If there was a gold medal for it, it’d be mine. Shaking?! Maybe more of a runners-up prize. Eating would have had to have been awarded a ‘must try harder’ – although I’ve just managed some jacket potatoes and one square of galaxy (anyone who knows me will tell you, the fact I’ve only had one square of galaxy and then have left the rest of the bar on the side to eat later is a true sign of illness for me. I ordinarily wolf chocolate down as if someone is about to steal it from me).
The very fact that I’m blogging and not curled up in a ball dribbling onto the sofa shows that I’m getting better and it’ll be back to the day job tomorrow, where I shall no doubt be in trouble for having a less than perfect immune system. Deep joy!