When I woke up this morning I felt (pardon the expression but it’s the one that fits) like shit on a stick. Everything hurt, throat, chest, joints..all of it. WITH a fever. Not a raging one but the low-grade kind that makes you wonder. For the last month I’ve felt poorly. The philosophy I was raised on said that one is only allowed to be truly sick a day, maybe two. Anything beyond that is malingering. I’ve tried, truly I have, to do what needs doing, but have only been able to do what HAD to be done- laundry, meals (and only simple ones like crockpot stuff) and that’s about it. The bathrooms look like something from a 1970’s truck stop. Seriously. I am not exaggerating. There’s pink stuff around the drains and I have no idea what it is.
Just doing the bare necessities has been exhausting. 10 hours of sleep every night and a 2-3 hour nap midday…who does that?
So, after taking #4 to school, I swung into the doctor’s office, that generously takes walk-ins between 8 and 9. The doctor looked serious and expressed displeasure at the length of wait I have to see a pulmonologist, so has given me a referral to another one. Then he said “Hum…let’s take a chest x-ray”
2 hours later the nurse called and said “Ms Toot, you have pneumonia, and probably have for quite a while, but the antibiotic we’ve called in should take care of it.”
Phew. See, I have a vivid imagination. Images of a tumor snaking around my bronchiols, gradually constricting airflow until a tracheotomy was needed, how am I supposed to sing with a tracheotomy? Also, lungworms. I don’t even know what lungworms are and I’ve never been to the Amazon Basin but they sound like something you’d get there…or maybe in the Congo but I’ve never been there either.
But pneumonia? I can deal with that. The bathrooms can wait another couple of weeks and no one has ever yet complained about the endless crockpot stews. I’ll post up in the recliner with the remote control, and once in a while maybe sit on the patio in the sunshine, and play the part of a Victorian invalid.