It is now ten days since I ventured out of the house.
I have been a bit poorly. Not Susie123 poorly.
And I feel a bit mard moaning when Sue is so chipper about her impending treatment.
I haven't had a cold, or flu....though himself keeps telling those who ask where I am,(we are usually seen out together...sort of joined at the hip) that I have had flu.
I just started with a sore throat.....no not even that. It was a 'scratchy' throat....the kind of thing you get as a precursor to a head cold.
I have been here before, I thought.
Immediate action was necessary. Hot lemon and honey and steam inhalations were started, even though I didn't actually feel ill.
The last time I went into Accrington was to do Ma's banking, pay her bills, get her pension........and try as I might I couldn't get any kind of speed out of the engine.(must be using the low octane weetabix)
Himself was two streets ahead of me....and didn't even bother looking back.( I could have cockled over and he wouldn't have known)
Never mind, I thought. I can catch him up when he gets to the car on the Aldi car park.
By the time I arrived there, he was sat in the car with the engine running. I was bathed in cold sweat and asked if we were going home.
'Why?' he asked.
'I don't feel so good....my legs feel like tripe'
So home we came and I put myself to bed.
This always worries him somewhat, as I do not take to illness very well.
He knows that me taking to my bed is tantamount to me waving the white flag of defeat. To be honest there wasn't much option. I felt much safer in the horizontal plane.
During that night my chest tightened up and I got that dry tickly cough. Oh No! This had shades of Weston about it.
The only good thing that could be said was that at least this time I was in my own bed and not expected to hoof around with Ma in the wheelchair.
Himself took Ma's things up for her. I told him not to say that I was ill........but he cannot make up a fiblet to save his life...either that or Ma caught him rubbing his nose(that is something that liars do when they tell a lie).
Anyway a couple of hours later Ma was on the blower checking up on me.(how's that for the shoe being on the other foot?)
I took the call on the phone upstairs.......she asked me how I was.
'Not dead yet' came the reply.
'Are you going to see the doctor?' she asked.
'Don't be daft, it is far too cold to have one of those cold stethoscopes on my pale wrinkled skin' I said.
'What are you taking?' she asked.
'A cocktail of cough mixtures.....one brown one, one pink one and one that looks like water and tastes vile....all through a straw with a cocktail umbrella and a sparkler in the glass. Hot lemon and honey, regular steam inhalations, paracetamol as well. Have you any other suggestions?' I asked, a bit sarkily.
I am a bit short on patience when I am not feeling my best, when I am sleep deprived(daytime sleep never feels quite as sunstantial).
'No - just look after yourself and get better soon'.
I felt quite chastened. A bit like I had shot Bambi.
So here I am ten days down the track not quite better, but getting there.
The cough? Well, that is loose,'fruity' and productive.(as long as you like things green!)
My appetite is gone, probably the sameplace as my energy.
My ribs are a bit sore.......like someone has kicked them a few times, my sleep isn't quite so distrubed...my temperature is down so I hope I am on the right side of this bug.
If I am not better by midweek I think I might just have to go and see them at Pals.
Ma has booked a trip to Llandudno for the week beginning the 13th of Feb.......this was done before I got sick.
Anyway, I had better go, my cough mixture cocktail awaits me, and a date with Vick.
I have been a bit poorly. Not Susie123 poorly.
And I feel a bit mard moaning when Sue is so chipper about her impending treatment.
I haven't had a cold, or flu....though himself keeps telling those who ask where I am,(we are usually seen out together...sort of joined at the hip) that I have had flu.
I just started with a sore throat.....no not even that. It was a 'scratchy' throat....the kind of thing you get as a precursor to a head cold.
I have been here before, I thought.
Immediate action was necessary. Hot lemon and honey and steam inhalations were started, even though I didn't actually feel ill.
The last time I went into Accrington was to do Ma's banking, pay her bills, get her pension........and try as I might I couldn't get any kind of speed out of the engine.(must be using the low octane weetabix)
Himself was two streets ahead of me....and didn't even bother looking back.( I could have cockled over and he wouldn't have known)
Never mind, I thought. I can catch him up when he gets to the car on the Aldi car park.
By the time I arrived there, he was sat in the car with the engine running. I was bathed in cold sweat and asked if we were going home.
'Why?' he asked.
'I don't feel so good....my legs feel like tripe'
So home we came and I put myself to bed.
This always worries him somewhat, as I do not take to illness very well.
He knows that me taking to my bed is tantamount to me waving the white flag of defeat. To be honest there wasn't much option. I felt much safer in the horizontal plane.
During that night my chest tightened up and I got that dry tickly cough. Oh No! This had shades of Weston about it.
The only good thing that could be said was that at least this time I was in my own bed and not expected to hoof around with Ma in the wheelchair.
Himself took Ma's things up for her. I told him not to say that I was ill........but he cannot make up a fiblet to save his life...either that or Ma caught him rubbing his nose(that is something that liars do when they tell a lie).
Anyway a couple of hours later Ma was on the blower checking up on me.(how's that for the shoe being on the other foot?)
I took the call on the phone upstairs.......she asked me how I was.
'Not dead yet' came the reply.
'Are you going to see the doctor?' she asked.
'Don't be daft, it is far too cold to have one of those cold stethoscopes on my pale wrinkled skin' I said.
'What are you taking?' she asked.
'A cocktail of cough mixtures.....one brown one, one pink one and one that looks like water and tastes vile....all through a straw with a cocktail umbrella and a sparkler in the glass. Hot lemon and honey, regular steam inhalations, paracetamol as well. Have you any other suggestions?' I asked, a bit sarkily.
I am a bit short on patience when I am not feeling my best, when I am sleep deprived(daytime sleep never feels quite as sunstantial).
'No - just look after yourself and get better soon'.
I felt quite chastened. A bit like I had shot Bambi.
So here I am ten days down the track not quite better, but getting there.
The cough? Well, that is loose,'fruity' and productive.(as long as you like things green!)
My appetite is gone, probably the sameplace as my energy.
My ribs are a bit sore.......like someone has kicked them a few times, my sleep isn't quite so distrubed...my temperature is down so I hope I am on the right side of this bug.
If I am not better by midweek I think I might just have to go and see them at Pals.
Ma has booked a trip to Llandudno for the week beginning the 13th of Feb.......this was done before I got sick.
Anyway, I had better go, my cough mixture cocktail awaits me, and a date with Vick.
)).
