We're not dead ...
... it just feels as though we are.
Recently a few people have rung to ask if we have fallen off the face of the Earth. No, and yes. We're still physically anchored to the planet, but have been so disgustingly debilitated by the horrible flu this year that for the last four or so weeks we have done exactly nothing.
Actually, that's not quite true. This is what I have done for the last four weeks:
* Get off plane from New Zealand, all enthused about great event with lovely people.
* Start feeling a bit under the weather.
* Struggle through the next week toughing it out.
* Attend grandmother's funeral in blisteringly cold weather.
* Sleep for the weekend, which was unfortunately the same weekend as Harry Potter VII came out and Bunch of Classes was on – an event at which I was meant to be teaching a class and running a pot-luck feast. Luckily J took over the latter, bless him.
* Was dragged out TV shopping on Sunday morning with J, because TV is more important than me not dying. As a result of my weak and febrile state, he now has a big shiny TV that I paid more than twice as much as I wanted to for. I'm taking the blessings back.
* Struggled into work on Monday for deadline.
* Slept Tuesday and Wednesday. Wednesday afternoon, J announces that he is now sick with the flu, too. I pointed out that if he'd stayed in the spare room as I asked him to, he would still be healthy and we'd both have had more sleep. He grunts at me and asks me to cook up soup. I am thankful that expensive deli soup exists, since it's no effort but tastes good.
* Saturday, after three days of coughing, J asks me to look at his ears. "They're bleeding," I say. "That's not a good sign. You should go to the doctor, or maybe the hospital."
* Sunday, much as Saturday.
* Monday morning at 12.30am, J decides to go to the hospital. This is seven hours before I start work. I walk him up to Newtown, make sure he's settled, taxi back.
* On arriving home I pick up the cat to move her out of the way. Notice she has a lump on the side of her face. Leave instructions for J to take cat to vet next day.
* 4.45am J gets home, he has managed to cough holes in both eardrums. Some boys just don't know when to stop in the "I have this worse than you" game.
* Monday evening after long deadline day I take cat to vet with her now larger lump. Abscess, requires surgery.
* Tuesday, pick up groggy cat with drain through face. Hand over almost exactly the same amount I paid for the TV. Goodbye dreams of new laptop and printer, goodbye! Bring cat home to a novel life of being indoors and wearing a bucket. Luckily, she is both toilet trained and fastidious, plus a genuinely sweet cat, especially given she used to be feral.
* Last week and a half is spent with three sick people being asleep a lot and awake at odd hours and living on toast and deli soup. Missed at least three other things I really really wanted to go to and was so sick I hallucinated Harry Potter passages.
So, in short, I'm not avoiding anyone or anything except inasmuch as I like most of you and do not want to infect you. Also, have exactly enough energy to walk up hill to ATM and back. This is actually a big improvement on Monday when running for the train required 10 minutes panting until lungs worked again.
If someone near you sneezes, RUN, FLEE, THROW ON A FACEMASK! This is a horrible, horrible flu and is knocking people over like some crazed skittles metaphor that I'd construct elegantly if only my brain was not still full of snot.
And there are three posts lined up ready to go as soon as I can write again: Midwinter, Peerage Secrets You May As Well Know, and, my personal favourite, What My Cat Looks Like in a Bucket. You lot stay well. And to Phil, Deense and other plague victims, get better!
Recently a few people have rung to ask if we have fallen off the face of the Earth. No, and yes. We're still physically anchored to the planet, but have been so disgustingly debilitated by the horrible flu this year that for the last four or so weeks we have done exactly nothing.
Actually, that's not quite true. This is what I have done for the last four weeks:
* Get off plane from New Zealand, all enthused about great event with lovely people.
* Start feeling a bit under the weather.
* Struggle through the next week toughing it out.
* Attend grandmother's funeral in blisteringly cold weather.
* Sleep for the weekend, which was unfortunately the same weekend as Harry Potter VII came out and Bunch of Classes was on – an event at which I was meant to be teaching a class and running a pot-luck feast. Luckily J took over the latter, bless him.
* Was dragged out TV shopping on Sunday morning with J, because TV is more important than me not dying. As a result of my weak and febrile state, he now has a big shiny TV that I paid more than twice as much as I wanted to for. I'm taking the blessings back.
* Struggled into work on Monday for deadline.
* Slept Tuesday and Wednesday. Wednesday afternoon, J announces that he is now sick with the flu, too. I pointed out that if he'd stayed in the spare room as I asked him to, he would still be healthy and we'd both have had more sleep. He grunts at me and asks me to cook up soup. I am thankful that expensive deli soup exists, since it's no effort but tastes good.
* Saturday, after three days of coughing, J asks me to look at his ears. "They're bleeding," I say. "That's not a good sign. You should go to the doctor, or maybe the hospital."
* Sunday, much as Saturday.
* Monday morning at 12.30am, J decides to go to the hospital. This is seven hours before I start work. I walk him up to Newtown, make sure he's settled, taxi back.
* On arriving home I pick up the cat to move her out of the way. Notice she has a lump on the side of her face. Leave instructions for J to take cat to vet next day.
* 4.45am J gets home, he has managed to cough holes in both eardrums. Some boys just don't know when to stop in the "I have this worse than you" game.
* Monday evening after long deadline day I take cat to vet with her now larger lump. Abscess, requires surgery.
* Tuesday, pick up groggy cat with drain through face. Hand over almost exactly the same amount I paid for the TV. Goodbye dreams of new laptop and printer, goodbye! Bring cat home to a novel life of being indoors and wearing a bucket. Luckily, she is both toilet trained and fastidious, plus a genuinely sweet cat, especially given she used to be feral.
* Last week and a half is spent with three sick people being asleep a lot and awake at odd hours and living on toast and deli soup. Missed at least three other things I really really wanted to go to and was so sick I hallucinated Harry Potter passages.
So, in short, I'm not avoiding anyone or anything except inasmuch as I like most of you and do not want to infect you. Also, have exactly enough energy to walk up hill to ATM and back. This is actually a big improvement on Monday when running for the train required 10 minutes panting until lungs worked again.
If someone near you sneezes, RUN, FLEE, THROW ON A FACEMASK! This is a horrible, horrible flu and is knocking people over like some crazed skittles metaphor that I'd construct elegantly if only my brain was not still full of snot.
And there are three posts lined up ready to go as soon as I can write again: Midwinter, Peerage Secrets You May As Well Know, and, my personal favourite, What My Cat Looks Like in a Bucket. You lot stay well. And to Phil, Deense and other plague victims, get better!
posted by Miss D at 12:28 am
17 comments
