I'm on about Day Seven of being sick. I had some fun plans set aside for this weekend that I jettisoned just to prevent a relapse. I know this is just a steenkin' cold, but I feel like my life has been hijacked. And just to rub salt into the wound a bit deeper, I got my period at the same time. I don't just get to feel like hell, but the Ninth Circle of Hell to boot.
I am sick of tired of feeling sick and tired. I've got cabin fever so bad, I'm going to start chewing paint off the damn walls. I went out for drinks and a bite to eat last night and felt fairly well. After about an hour and a half though, I could feel myself hitting the wall of fatigue again. It just comes on like a ton of bricks. For every thirty minute span of nearly normal energy and endeavour, I have to pay with at least an hour of fatigue. This is a powerful disincentive as far as fitness training is concerned, so that's been put on temporary hold, too.
Each morning this week, I've had to hyork up some weird crust that has set up in my throat. I sound like my cat when she's working a hairball. I cough, I sneeze, my nose will itch. I blow and I blow and then my nose will feel really dry for about 2-3 hours. Then the whole cycle starts all over again.
I hate being sick when I don't have a boyfriend, have I mentioned that before? It's just another neon sign of a reminder that I'm alone in the world - that potentially I could die and there wouldn't be anyone to notice. Just because I can cope with being alone doesn't mean I prefer it or particularly enjoy it. I used to think I "did" being alone fairly well, and then I come across a situation that reminds me I might be wrong. Being sick just leaves me with far too much time and headspace to work myself up into a negative lather about things. And to cast about for alternate realities that only leave me feeling more anxious.
It would just be nice to have someone other than the cat to talk to when I wake up in the morning, is all I'm saying. Not on email, not on instant messenger, not on the phone, but in the same goddamn room as me.
I am sick of tired of feeling sick and tired. I've got cabin fever so bad, I'm going to start chewing paint off the damn walls. I went out for drinks and a bite to eat last night and felt fairly well. After about an hour and a half though, I could feel myself hitting the wall of fatigue again. It just comes on like a ton of bricks. For every thirty minute span of nearly normal energy and endeavour, I have to pay with at least an hour of fatigue. This is a powerful disincentive as far as fitness training is concerned, so that's been put on temporary hold, too.
Each morning this week, I've had to hyork up some weird crust that has set up in my throat. I sound like my cat when she's working a hairball. I cough, I sneeze, my nose will itch. I blow and I blow and then my nose will feel really dry for about 2-3 hours. Then the whole cycle starts all over again.
I hate being sick when I don't have a boyfriend, have I mentioned that before? It's just another neon sign of a reminder that I'm alone in the world - that potentially I could die and there wouldn't be anyone to notice. Just because I can cope with being alone doesn't mean I prefer it or particularly enjoy it. I used to think I "did" being alone fairly well, and then I come across a situation that reminds me I might be wrong. Being sick just leaves me with far too much time and headspace to work myself up into a negative lather about things. And to cast about for alternate realities that only leave me feeling more anxious.
It would just be nice to have someone other than the cat to talk to when I wake up in the morning, is all I'm saying. Not on email, not on instant messenger, not on the phone, but in the same goddamn room as me.
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