This is totally the last entry I’m going to write about being ill. No, really.
Well, December really kicked my ass hard, didn’t it? That “mild-ish” head cold I was whining about back on the 23rd? Turned into a “really quite freaking heavy” cold sometime in the early hours of Christmas morning, and while I managed to get through Christmas day itself feeling relatively normal, things continued to get worse, and by Boxing Day my immune system was curled up in a corner of my body somewhere, like the poor, beaten thing it is, and the cold ran rampant, forcing me to spend the entire day flaked out on the couch feeling very, very sorry for myself.
December 1 – 4: The flu
December 6 – 7 : The cold
December 8 – 10 The flu, reprise. This was actually a worse flu than the one before it AND I was in Tenerife at the time, so yay!
This was followed by…. A COLD SORE! Which arrived on my top lip the day the flu finally released me from its evil clutches, and is the reason I’m wearing bright red lipstick in all of the holiday photos, even the ones where I’ve just got out of bed or am relaxing at the beach. Yes, I was That Girl With Makeup On At the Beach. Sorry.
Brief period of rest/recovery, only not really “recovery” so much because:
December 25 – 29: The cold. Only really bad this time.
So, yeah, screw you, December! You had a lot going for you in terms of holidays, presents and food, but clearly you really HATED me, and that’s why I got to go through all of these events feeling like I’d just been run over by a bus. Thanks, December! My guess is that I’ll be feeling well again by the time I go back to work, so that’s great because even although I’ll have just had almost a month’s holiday, I’ll have managed to gain no benefit from it AT ALL, and will return to my desk a sorry shadow of my former self, run-down and weakened by the illnesses that have just about SLAIN me throughout this month.
Such is the way of it, though. I’m pretty sure my body KNOWS when I’m on holiday and it saves up all the illnesses it’s been meaning to have for then. You know, so I don’t get to take any time off work. I’m also pretty sure I more or less drove myself into the flu this month with my programme of “work myself into the ground in the weeks immediately preceding my holiday”, though, so yeah, won’t be doing that again. I got the memo, body: you can lay off the back-to-back illness now, thanks.
Seriously, though, my body hates me. In every job I’ve ever had, I’ve had an almost perfect attendance record, on account of the fact that my body would somehow get me through even the worst plagues upon the office, only to lay me low with some fun illness the very SECOND I clocked out on holiday. Trust me when I tell you that THIS SUCKS, especially given that I’ve had jobs in which I’ve prayed for a good bout of the flu, if only because it would have relieved the monotony, and because lying in my sick bed would seriously have been more fun than sitting at my desk. Ditto school/university: I never had to worry about getting ill before or during exams, because I’d always – and I do mean always – get ill immediately afterwards instead.
When I was a kid, my parents would dread the school holidays because they knew beyond doubt that I’d have the mumps/the chicken-pox/< insert childhood illness of choice here > for the entire duration of them. One Easter, I got the mumps on the right hand side of my face, and as soon as I reached the end of the quarantine period, I got it AGAIN, on the left hand side of my face, and so the whole thing started again. Every summer my dad would be all, “Where do you want to go on holiday this year?” and my mum would say, “Well, Amber hasn’t had the measles yet, so it’s probably best not to plan anything….” Gah.
Note to self: see about getting the flu jab. Terry gets it every year on account of his transplant (this is presumably why he has remained fighting fit throughout the month now known to me as That Freaking December) and I’m going to see if I can get it too, on account of being a complete and utter drama queen, who really doesn’t deal well with illness. If the NHS won’t give me it (and let’s be honest here: they won’t), I’m prepared to go private and pay for it. Or, actually, Terry will probably be prepared to pay for it, if only to stop the whining…
Anyway, tonight there will be a brief respite for my family, as my parents are taking Terry and I to see Sunshine on Leith at the Festival Theatre in Edinburgh. Not only are we looking forward to the show itself, I won’t be able to talk about my illnesses while it’s on – bonus!