Lurching From My Grave...
Mar. 6th, 2010 01:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sinanjuWell, okay, not my grave. My sickbed.
Saturday--last Saturday, not today--we drove two hours to visit Oneson and family, all of whom were sick. I spent a while dozing on the sofa while Snippy, Twoson, One and the kids went out in the sun for a walk. Eventually we drove home. Tired Sinanju was tired.
On Sunday, Tired Sinanju was Even More Tired. Snippy urged me to rest in bed, and--breaking from my usual pattern--I complied with her sensible advice. Sunday evening, my throat was beginning to hurt. I thought at first I'd caught something from the kids or grandkids, but I don't any longer. It came on too quickly.
Monday morning I got up to drive her to work, and my throat was so swollen she told me (later) she feared I had the mumps. I went back to bed. I spent most of the rest of the week mostly in bed, feeling fatigued and headachy and with a sore throat. I had occasional brief periods of feeling okay--only okay, not good--but then there were the times when it felt like someone had pulled a plug and all my strength just ran down the drain.
Thursday night I took a dose of Nyquil, mostly to help me sleep. And it worked, I guess. I roared like a chain saw, apparently, but it didn't disturb my sleep. Friday night, I slept on the sofa, so as not to disturb Snippy with my chainsaw imitation. Either Nyquil only works once and then I get used to it, or the couch was damned uncomfortable. I felt like I tossed and turned forever before finally sleeping.
Yesterday I felt like I'd finally beaten this thing. Aside from a sore throat, I felt greatly improved. Almost human. Then I tried another dose of Nyquil and spent half the night lying in bed feeling like I was drowning in snot (when I wasn't coughing), before retreating to the sofa, where I could prop myself up and sleep half sitting up. The sofa was a lot more helpful this time than the night before.
Today I can't talk, except an occasional whisper. My throat hurts like a son-of-a-bitch. (However, gargling with salt water or ThroatCoat Tea works like magic...as long as I keep it up continuously. Rx today: lots and lots of water, with frequent use of salt water or ThroatCoat tea to soothe my throat.
I didn't write a damn thing this week. Well, I added a couple hundred words to "Fast Friends" during edits, as agreed with the editor when they bought it (to satisfy the word length requirements for the next longer category of stories they publish, which is where they wanted to slot it). Finished the edits on that, as well as on "The Wild One."
But otherwise? I didn't write a damn thing this week. I could hardly read this week, and only for a few minutes at a time. I didn't feel groggy, I just couldn't concentrate on anything. That's better too, obviously (I didn't blog any either for the same reason). But I'm hoping this sore throat is the illness's last hurrah. I really am.
Saturday--last Saturday, not today--we drove two hours to visit Oneson and family, all of whom were sick. I spent a while dozing on the sofa while Snippy, Twoson, One and the kids went out in the sun for a walk. Eventually we drove home. Tired Sinanju was tired.
On Sunday, Tired Sinanju was Even More Tired. Snippy urged me to rest in bed, and--breaking from my usual pattern--I complied with her sensible advice. Sunday evening, my throat was beginning to hurt. I thought at first I'd caught something from the kids or grandkids, but I don't any longer. It came on too quickly.
Monday morning I got up to drive her to work, and my throat was so swollen she told me (later) she feared I had the mumps. I went back to bed. I spent most of the rest of the week mostly in bed, feeling fatigued and headachy and with a sore throat. I had occasional brief periods of feeling okay--only okay, not good--but then there were the times when it felt like someone had pulled a plug and all my strength just ran down the drain.
Thursday night I took a dose of Nyquil, mostly to help me sleep. And it worked, I guess. I roared like a chain saw, apparently, but it didn't disturb my sleep. Friday night, I slept on the sofa, so as not to disturb Snippy with my chainsaw imitation. Either Nyquil only works once and then I get used to it, or the couch was damned uncomfortable. I felt like I tossed and turned forever before finally sleeping.
Yesterday I felt like I'd finally beaten this thing. Aside from a sore throat, I felt greatly improved. Almost human. Then I tried another dose of Nyquil and spent half the night lying in bed feeling like I was drowning in snot (when I wasn't coughing), before retreating to the sofa, where I could prop myself up and sleep half sitting up. The sofa was a lot more helpful this time than the night before.
Today I can't talk, except an occasional whisper. My throat hurts like a son-of-a-bitch. (However, gargling with salt water or ThroatCoat Tea works like magic...as long as I keep it up continuously. Rx today: lots and lots of water, with frequent use of salt water or ThroatCoat tea to soothe my throat.
I didn't write a damn thing this week. Well, I added a couple hundred words to "Fast Friends" during edits, as agreed with the editor when they bought it (to satisfy the word length requirements for the next longer category of stories they publish, which is where they wanted to slot it). Finished the edits on that, as well as on "The Wild One."
But otherwise? I didn't write a damn thing this week. I could hardly read this week, and only for a few minutes at a time. I didn't feel groggy, I just couldn't concentrate on anything. That's better too, obviously (I didn't blog any either for the same reason). But I'm hoping this sore throat is the illness's last hurrah. I really am.