I’ve had this horrendous cough for about a week now, and over the weekend it got so bad I could barely breathe in while having these coughing fits that sounded like a train wrecking into a cannonball warehouse. Gee, that’s a clue there’s a problem, so today I went to the doctor.
Now he tells me I have some kind of bacterial pneumonia that’s contagious, and I can’t go to work for a week. Well, lah-tee-tah! That might sound like a week of WOOT! to some, but I like my job and I’m going to be bored out of my skull. Not to mention I have 5 meds I have to take, including an inhaler. Agh, fuck me!
On the plus side, though, I haven’t smoked since I first got the cough, so I guess this is as good a chance as any to finally quit. So maybe something positive will come out of it. I’m not feeling very happy about being trapped in the house though. I feel just fine except for the cough. And I’m stuck here so that means I have no excuse for not cleaning. Just a fine load of crap all around!
I’m a machinist. So even if I weren’t contagious, the cough syrup with codeine would keep me out of work. And the meds thing really bites because I already take 3 meds on a regular basis anyway. I actually had to write a schedule out to know what to take and when.
I think I found the excuse not to clean, though. Mom called and reminded me that we are going on vacation down the shore in July, and I need to get the list out for everyone to coordinate who is going to bring what. I think if I really milk that it might get me through. Plus play a lot of bridge–against software, but at least I won’t be infecting three other people.
These little interludes with bad health and restricted freedom are poignant, when they come in the middle of an otherwise healthy life. The frustration is sort of exhilarating, if you have a reasonable expectation that the restrictions are short term. Less and less exhilarating, the longer they’re likely to last . . .
Just don’t do what I did. I had pneumonia, and a proposal to deliver (no, not romantic, the Federal Contracting kind, unfortunately) so I went to work. On Christmas, with pneumonia. I never really recovered, and had several relapses followed by a lovely bout of pleurisy.
You don’t want pleurisy. Rest, drink water, take your medicine. Take ALL of the medicine, exactly the way they tell you too.
Gee, and I was whining about my 4-day cold. OK, a little whining was in order - Typhoid Bubba (or whatever his name was) brought his infected self to my husband’s work, and spousal unit contracted, then shared, the plague. I had one night of freezing (it was 76° and I was in a long sweatsuit shivering) and two full days of vegetating in front of Netflix. But I’m convinced the idle time really helped me get better.
Spouse, on the other hand, kept going to work, since everyone there was sick anyway. He dragged around for 8 days. I was almost back to normal in half the time. The moral of the story is: Take it easy and let yourself get better. You can’t force yourself to recover. Trust me - I’m not a doctor, but I used to watch Scrubs.
Absolutely. This is one time when cleaning should be avoided. If you absolutely must, wear a respirator. But really, is there any time when cleaning is an absolute must when you’re sick?
, but still.