11.17
In the past week the flu has hit me with the subtlety of a well aimed baseball bat. I really felt like I was dying. No, really.
What started off as a mild cold (or so it seemed) about the middle of last week rapidly mutated into what I think was bird flu. Nete will tell you it was all just a mild cold, in the way that women always mock men when they catch cold, but no, it was definitely bird flu. Ok, maybe I’m exaggerating a little but it was bad and at least qualifies as angry, mutated cold virus. My sinuses and throat are still messed up. I haven’t tasted or smelt anything for over a week. Walking up the stairs causes my eardrums to nearly burst with the change in pressure. I’ve learnt a lot about how taste overrides sensation too. There are certain foods which I’ve always eaten and really enjoyed but without the taste I’ve begun to notice how they actually feel in your mouth and all I can say is, sorry Nete…
Today is the first day where I’ve even opened up my laptop and the site of my inbox is not pretty (not that it normally is mind you) and I’m sure if I read everything I’d find out that everyone I know wants everything that ever was done by this afternoon. Which, of course, is why I’m not going to read everything. It’s taken me three sessions to write this interspersed with blanket hugging, shivering coughing fits which are doing nothing for my head or throat (except hurting them) and so I’m going to keep taking the tablets and try to avoid that age-old thing of returning to life before you actually really get over something – thus triggering a follow-on thing (such as a lung bursting chest infection). Despite all of this, I can definitely feel a turnaround in the way I’m feeling, so I’m aiming for a Monday return to the world of hurt that is my inbox…