I have bronchitis. Officially. IT SUCKS. I’m coughing up icky yellow stuff (and a lung, or so it feels like), I can’t breathe deeply, I have a nasty fever, fatigue, and no appetite. I’m fairly miserable, especially because I will have had to spend NINE DAYS in bed. Yep, this is day 7, and I’ve been ordered by my doctor to take my Zpack and stay in bed till Friday. Blerg.
Not only am I not used to being sick this long, I’m not used to staying inside this long. I’ve gotten pretty good at nice lazy weekends or long solo nights, but 9 days literally bedridden with not even enough energy to read. I’ve gone into work the last two days too, even though I’ve known it’s a bad idea, and even though my boss is out of town, because he’s paying me and there’s work to be done. I’m gonna do my best to do it from home, but lying prone with a fever and a hacking, lung-ripping cough is not the ideal work environment. I had to cancel my four ushering gigs at H2S this week because I’m supposed to stay in. I had to cancel last week too. I know it’s not my fault, but I’m not used to being unreliable. I don’t like it.
I also made the grave mistake of watching the movie Contagion. Guess what the first symptoms are? Yup, a cough. And a fever. Oh, and then they all have seizures and foam at the mouth and die. And it’s passed on by simple contact– I use a glass and the busser clears it. I hold the subway pole and then you do. I cough near you and you DIE. I literally feel like a walking Contagion. It’s not so great for the self-esteem. People aren’t pleased when you’re ill near them.
All right, gonna go back to lying on my side and hacking up infectious diseases.