I'm sick. And I don't mean sniffly, cougy sick. I've been visited by our good friend, the rhinovirus, better known as the common cold. Only this is worse. My nose is running worse than a leaky faucet in a poor victorian home, and my head feels like a giant wad of cotton.
I'm hopped up on somethingQuil, god knows if it's day or night, I just grabbed a box this morning and downed two, and stuffed the rest in my pocket. I slept through my alarm, which never happens. Ever. I was so put-under by the Q that I even ignored the alarm on my watch, which dutifully reminds me when I should be leaving for the bus.
School's been interesting. I've about stripped my throat raw, so I have pretty much no voice left. My pallor must be so like death that nobody will talk to me. I can see the disgust in people's eyes. I should have just stayed home, but I'm not going to miss another editing period at work. I'm a news editor, I should at least be there often enough to do my job. So tolerate me for now, oh ye of the healthy world. Tolerate me, or else I will come close to you and share with you this wonderful parasite that feeds on me.
Ugh, can't focus. Room spinning. Must get rest.
Nyquil, your sneezing, coughing, stuffy-head, fever, why-is-the-room-spinning medicine.
Gah. I need to hear a comforting voice.
2 comments:
seems like your blog didn't like my comment a few hours ago...
anyway, what I was saying was;
oh no!
hope you feel better soon and;
why do you do meds when they make you feel horrible?
Feeling horrible is just a side-effect. I'm expected to be functional, and I can't be when I'm sick. So I pop some broad-spectrum meds, deal with the side effects, and go to work.
It's not pretty, and I don't enjoy it, but stuff needs to be done, and I'm the only one here to do it.
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