*blows dust off*
Is this thing on?
When I was last here, I was hyper about the performance of the Verdi Requiem that I was due to sing later in the same week and I was grumbling about the cold and post-viral cough that I had for what seemed to be literally forever (and I was nervous that the one would end up keeping me from doing the other). I got through the Verdi, and by that I mean I had the time of my life and also had no voice left at the end of it. However, my post-viral cough seemed to be on the wane, and I had about a day and a half of feeling like a healthy person again before I was felled by the head cold to end all head colds. It’s nearly a fortnight later and I am still producing what can be described only as a super-glue like substance from my nose.
My theory is that I hit a point in the rota where I had no on calls to do for a month, and so my immune system up and went to Tahiti and forgot to take me with it.
It turns out that, absent my immune system, I am quite hilariously intolerant of the potions and miracle cures that one might be tempted to turn to. I sort of knew this about anything that is in any way opiate based — the people who worked with me back when I did smoking cessation admin for one of the local councils will not soon forget the day that I went completely loopy on two prescription strength co-codamol. And then last week I took Sudafed in a desperate attempt to decongest myself and ended up spending my whole bank holiday sitting on my sofa saying, to the cats, “Oooh, look at the pretty lights.” I can only be thankful that I took it on a day that I was off and not on a day that I then had to drive to work.
And so the blogging has for the last few weeks been superseded by the dragging myself through work in a bit of a stuffed up fog, punctuated by sitting crossly on my sofa and feeling rather sorry for myself and, you know, being high. I am a person who generally has the great good fortune to enjoy disgustingly good health. When I tried to think about it, I realised that I haven’t had so much as a proper good going cold since I was on elective in Tanzania in 2011. If you think that this makes me stoical, you are wrong. This makes me react appallingly to the merest sniff in the direction of being sick, by which I mean that I am absolutely miserable while simultaneously pretending that I am not sick at all.
So, for example. The next thing to happen after Verdi was that I had to reaudition for my choir, as I was pulled out of whichever hat it is that we use in the normal cycle of being reauditioned every few years. In hindsight, I will concede that actually attending it while I had a streaming head cold was perhaps not the smartest of ideas. This is what I mean when I say that I pretend I’m not sick.
Many thanks to the friends and colleagues and Twitterers who have put up with me being miserable at them for the last few weeks.
And to the rest of you, hello, hello. I feel more human this weekend than I have in quite a number of weeks, and — *whispers, touches wood* — I think I may actually be on the mend. I’m on call again next weekend, so I s’pose my immune system felt it might be time to come home from Tahiti.
It’s good to be back.