1521: Wretched

Still feeling utterly wretched, though not quite as bad as yesterday in that I can actually move and do things now, so long as I take an hour or two to psych myself up beforehand. Most of the more horrid symptoms I’ve been exhibiting — a cough that makes my head feel like it’s exploding, a fever, body aches so strong that it hurt to even think about moving at several points yesterday — appear to be calming down a bit, but I’m still stuck with an unpleasant sore throat and, perhaps the most annoying of all, a bunged-up head that is not only the source of a constant, dull ache but also has kept me feeling consistently dizzy any time I stand up.

I mentioned yesterday that this has been quite an “interesting” illness, though, and whatever is going on in my head is presumably something to do with that. I’m not sure of the exact definition of being “delirious”, but my mind was definitely doing something odd any time I closed my eyes, particularly when I was lying down.

If I lay on my right side, my brain would immediately kick into some sort of in-depth technical project that, for some reason, I associated with Metal Gear Solid: Ground Zeroes, despite the fact that I 1) haven’t played it and 2) have no evidence that there is a Metal Gear in Ground Zeroes. Said project would repeatedly get tantalisingly close to completion, but I’d never quite figure out what it was, and by the time it looked like I might get somewhere, the process would start over again.

If I lay on my left side, meanwhile, my brain would immediately start planning some sort of low-tech project to do with bows and arrows, possibly prompted by the fact that I spent part of yesterday whimpering on the sofa watching Disney’s Robin Hood, which I haven’t seen for a good twenty years or so. Again, this project would never come to fruition; by the time it felt like it might, I’d get uncomfortable and have to turn over and start the other one again.

Both of these mental workouts, whatever they were, were interesting to see, but they made it an absolute bugger to get to sleep, and as such I’m not entirely sure quite how much sleep I’ve actually gotten in the last couple of days. Lying down isn’t relaxing at all right now, but when I sit up I just don’t have the energy to do anything. It took me a while to summon up the strength to sit down in front of the computer and pen this post, and said strength is already fading.

As such, I’m going to dose myself up with Lemsip and try to actually get some sleep. Good night.

#oneaday, Day 2: Flubag

I can always tell when it’s the holiday season. Because the holiday season is the Time To Get Ill. Almost without fail every single year, at some point around Christmas/New Year, my body goes “Nope! Had enough. Here’s some snot. Happy Christmas!” and buggers off for a few days.

This year is no exception. I thought I’d escaped, because for the whole time I was over in California visiting my brother for the holidays, I was fine, despite everyone around me gradually sinking into a mire of barking repeatedly like someone with Spatchcock’s Ever-Coughing Syndrome. Including the dog. Who was actually barking, not coughing.

On the plane ride on the way home, though, I felt the illness hit. Several other Spatchcock’s sufferers on the flight coupled with yummy delicious recycled air being pumped around the cabin meant a breeding ground for germs. And sure enough… “Had enough. Here’s some snot. Happy Christmas!”

Well, you’re late, illness glands. And, you know, you really didn’t have to get me anything this year. I just got you a bunch of pills, and I know you don’t really like them that much.

The most irritating thing about suffering with Spatchcock’s Syndrome is how difficult it makes sleeping. When you lie down in bed with Spatchcock’s, you are constantly in one of two states: mouth-breathing, or coughing.

The mouth-breathing comes because your nose is so full of juicy snot that if you didn’t mouth-breathe you’d suffocate and die, and suffocating and dying because of snot would just be embarrassing. If you do happen to get to sleep whilst in the mouth-breathing phase, your snores will qualify as some of the most disgusting noises on the planet and will probably involve bubbling. If you are sleeping with anyone at the time, this is a sure-fire way to find out if they really love you or not.

The coughing usually comes when you manage to clear your nose a little bit, and inevitably brings up more snot to join the party. The noise and the irritation in your throat wakes you and anyone in the same building up, and once it passes you’re back to mouth-breathing again.

So you probably end up not sleeping until your brain is so devoid of power that it goes into laptop-style hibernation mode and fails to wake you up until lunchtime the next day. And because you slept at a weird time, you end up feeling crappy the next day, which compounds the whole situation further.

Eventually you just decide to not sleep any more until this dratted pox departs your system, during which time you gradually slip into a hallucinogenic fantasy which you can’t quite decide whether is good or bad or somewhere in between and then you die. Possibly.

I am grateful for one thing, though: at least it’s not full-on achey joints flu, which I’ve only been struck down with once at a time that happened to coincide with a Christmas I was set to spend alone in my house due to holiday retail work commitments and the rest of my family doing other things. Elsewhere. Without me.

Remind me why I want to get a job again?

One A Day, Day 36: An Open Letter

Dear Universe,

I write with regard to the recent delivery you made to my person – specifically, the bumper package of coughing fits, temperatures and shaky hands.

I do not remember ordering these items, nor do I wish to keep them. As such, I must humbly request that you dispatch a courier posthaste to come and pick them up. Technically the items have been “opened” and “used” since they are coursing through my body as we speak, but since I did not order them and they appear to have been delivered in the dead of night directly to my person rather than appropriately packaged at a more sociable hour, I do not feel that the premature opening and usage of said items is my responsibility.

I am of the mind that this delivery was perhaps intended for someone else. If this is the case, would you kindly furnish me with the details of the intended recipient and I will do my best to forward on the items as soon as possible. I would not wish the items’ rightful owner to miss out on the experience of coughing so forcefully it creates a side-effect of unintentional flatulence.

If, on the other hand, the items are an unnanounced “gift” from someone (which is possible, seeing as there did not appear to be a receipt with the items) then I request, with respect, that you provide me with their name and address so I may return the favour, perhaps through the medium of Uzbekistani sledgehammer dancing – a dangerous yet beautiful artform which frequently places bystanders’ testicles in mortal peril.

I thank you in advance for your co-operation in this matter, and I look forward to hearing from you soon.

Yours sincerely,

Pete Davison