Slow recovery

My boast that I was on the mend after only 4 days backfired on me. The path on from there has been somewhat bumpy.

Tigger felt decidedly unwell on Tuesday and took the day off work. Perhaps it is a feature of this particular virus that it allows you to think you are getting better when it is merely settling itself for a stronger attack. Tigger went back to work on Wednesday, leaving me moping at home, but neither of us improved much in the following days. Friday was something of a Waterloo for both of us.

Tigger felt so unwell that she took another day off work. As for myself, I felt distinctly groggy. My cold, man-flu, or whatever you want to call it, had gone down onto my chest, as they almost always do and bouts of coughing were keeping me awake at night.

Usually, I am pretty good at getting up in the morning. I lie there thinking of all the things there are to do and before long I am up and having breakfast and checking emails. Not on Friday. I simply could not bring myself to get up. I thought about it. Several times. But somehow I just went on lying there, fitfully dozing and awaking with a start. When I finally dragged my carcase from the bed and headed for the sink where a neglected heap of washing-up lay beckoning, it was midday. Midday!

The rest of the day was spent in the same dull and sluggish manner. I made a discovery: I had lost my appetite and eating became an unpleasant chore.

On the plus side, I made another discovery: lying on your back to cough is a Bad Idea. I suppose it’s like trying to bowl uphill. I found that if I sat up and leaned forward slightly, my coughs were, um, a bit more productive.

This morning was a near repeat of last Saturday. We set out in shiny weather to find breakfast. We found it. Don’t ask me where: I wasn’t really paying attention. When we left the cafe Tigger expressed it as her dearest wish to return home. I had no quarrel with that.

So here we sit or lie, two sad muppets, occasionally conscious, occasionally dozing and leaving the task of healing to the Great Physician, Time. He’d better succeed and quickly: in one week we are off on our next expedition.

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About SilverTiger

I live in Islington with my partner, "Tigger". I blog about our life and our travels, using my own photos for illustration.
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3 Responses to Slow recovery

  1. Chris says:

    Sorry I can’t help to get rid of your cold. I have had an idea though, for a way to get some compensation for the sniffles you have suffered from recently. Consider the following facts:

    1. It has been a poor summer. Lots of rain and cold weather all over the country.

    2. Your gas fire, which would have helped you to keep warm, was recently disconnected.

    Is it possible that the actions of your local authority have contributed to your catching a cold? And would you consider suing them for every penny they are worth? If you need a lawyer, I can recommend the recently established firm of Frumplington, Frumplington and Smythe. We await your call :))

  2. Brian Barder says:

    Commiserations to you both. As recorded at some length on my own blog, I too was struck down by a vile (I was going to say, tautologically, ‘virulent’) virus towards the end of June: assumed that it was flu and that there was nothing to be done except take copious quantities of aspirin, whisky and honey, and lots of time to sleep or doze: found on day three that an already injured leg had swollen up like a Zeppelin and turned dark purple from sole of foot to groin: was dragged by alarmed spouse to my beautiful lady GP: and was in hospital by that evening having super-size doses of antibiotics pumped into me intravenously. There I remained for a week; was then discharged with a ten-day supply of oral antibiotics, still at super-strength; returned to my beautiful GP after ten days and was prescribed another ten days’-worth, with the warning that unless the leg began to deflate and pale within three days, I would be back under the ward sister (metaphorically, of course) with another cannula rammed into the scarred vein in my hand. Happily this has so far proved unnecessary and as of now (23 July, nearly a month from the first onset of what proved to be a very bad case of cellulitis) I’m promised that another three days of the tablets, combined with continued elevation of the offending limb, should see me right. That will be four weeks of high-dose flucloxacillin (likely to destroy the kidneys if taken for long enough) and penicillin V, and with only three days to go the leg is still every bit as pink as my politics and about 33 per cent fatter than its partner.

    Could this be a close relative of the virus that has afflicted the suffering felid family, homing in on your most vulnerable areas (your bronchitis-scarred chest) as it homed in on mine (an already injured and swollen leg, loosely attached to a diabetic)? I think we should be told.

    Anyway, even if your virus or viruses is or are not by any means related to mine, I send my sympathetic best wishes for an earlier recovery than anything I have managed to stage so far!

    (BTW, there’s a particularly nasty bit of colourfully illustrated porn-spam on the language board awaiting your attention when you feel strong enough to despatch it to its long home in hell!)

    Bien amicalement
    Brian
    http://www.barder.com/ephems/

  3. emalyse says:

    It’s rarely fun crawling out of a bad cold (especially when shared).I rarely relish a cold as it causes breathing problems for weeks after and a lovely increase in tinnitus (a little louder please…). Those seemingly in the know keep telling us we can’t catch a cold from being cold though it never seems that way (we used to live in a maisonette with lots of lovely condensation which caused me some serious chest infections). I recommend friends with small children as the quickest way to get infected.

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