The last week has been total shit. By total shit, I mean living the past week or so was about as pleasant as being buried up to my neck in the foulest, most rank assortment of shit one could conjure up on short notice.
The reason why last week sucked so hard was due to my being sick. Now for some context: I rarely get sick. Aside from a bout of asthma as a child, I've never had anything serious. Hell, the only medical ailments I've had to contend with over the last decade have been colds (surfacing with each season change, like clockwork) and the occasional ingrown toe nail. Last week I came down with what I thought was the flu. I was coughing furiously, hacking so hard that it reminded me of the aliens from Hitchhiker's Guide, who recited poetry so awful it caused the listener/victim to have their own body parts to attempt to leap out of their own mouths. That is how I felt. It was as if my entire body was in a state of revolt, and I was drinking Robitussin and popping multivitamins left and right in an attempt to keep my insides nice and stable. After two of the worst nights of my life (no sleep, raging temperature changes, coughing so hard I could barely breathe), I started taking TheraFlu (the apple cinnamon flavor, which was horrible in the same way that all medicinal things taste horrible) and I thought I was improving. Negatory. After another day of hacking (by this point, I had called in work and thanked Cthulthu, Jesus, and Vishnu that I work for a company with paid sick days), I saw the family doctor and got the verdict: bronchitis. He put me on antibiotics and codeine cough syrup. Fast forward about four days: I'm actually starting to feel almost, ALMOST like my old self. I've been able to go back to work and look healthy, even when I'm not, and my coughing fits have gone from agonizing pain to mild annoyance. Hopefully by the end of this week, I'll be at a 100% again.
In a way, all this is for the best. The irony of my being sick on the day I got sick was that was the same day I had planned on beginning to live a more healthy lifestyle, lose weight, get some muscle tone, and all around do all the physical things I've been putting off for the last couple of months. Being this sick makes me want to be as healthy as I can, just so I don't have to put up with the indignity of being sick again. Plus, my appetite has diminished greatly during this time, so when I do eat now, its in very small portions. I've also lost a bit of weight, which is nice, although losing it as a result of coughing so hard I couldn't keep a proper meal down isn't exactly the best nor healthiest method of weight loss.
Worst thing about bronchitis? Not being able to laugh is a real bitch (my throat is to sore to sustain a bout of laughter; whenever I start laughing at something it quickly turns into a coughing fit, so I end up suppressing my funny bone as much as I can). When I saw Snakes On A Plane last night and watched a grown man get his johnson bit off by an enraged snake, I wanted to laugh, and in a more healthier state I would have laughed and wept tears of joy, but all I could was grin politely and murmur "yikes". That is agony, people. If I can't laugh at a dick joke, then the terroists (bronchitis) have won.
And now if you'll excuse me, faithful readers, I'm off to get some more of that codeine. To paraphrase the late Rick James, codeine is a hell of a drug.
The reason why last week sucked so hard was due to my being sick. Now for some context: I rarely get sick. Aside from a bout of asthma as a child, I've never had anything serious. Hell, the only medical ailments I've had to contend with over the last decade have been colds (surfacing with each season change, like clockwork) and the occasional ingrown toe nail. Last week I came down with what I thought was the flu. I was coughing furiously, hacking so hard that it reminded me of the aliens from Hitchhiker's Guide, who recited poetry so awful it caused the listener/victim to have their own body parts to attempt to leap out of their own mouths. That is how I felt. It was as if my entire body was in a state of revolt, and I was drinking Robitussin and popping multivitamins left and right in an attempt to keep my insides nice and stable. After two of the worst nights of my life (no sleep, raging temperature changes, coughing so hard I could barely breathe), I started taking TheraFlu (the apple cinnamon flavor, which was horrible in the same way that all medicinal things taste horrible) and I thought I was improving. Negatory. After another day of hacking (by this point, I had called in work and thanked Cthulthu, Jesus, and Vishnu that I work for a company with paid sick days), I saw the family doctor and got the verdict: bronchitis. He put me on antibiotics and codeine cough syrup. Fast forward about four days: I'm actually starting to feel almost, ALMOST like my old self. I've been able to go back to work and look healthy, even when I'm not, and my coughing fits have gone from agonizing pain to mild annoyance. Hopefully by the end of this week, I'll be at a 100% again.
In a way, all this is for the best. The irony of my being sick on the day I got sick was that was the same day I had planned on beginning to live a more healthy lifestyle, lose weight, get some muscle tone, and all around do all the physical things I've been putting off for the last couple of months. Being this sick makes me want to be as healthy as I can, just so I don't have to put up with the indignity of being sick again. Plus, my appetite has diminished greatly during this time, so when I do eat now, its in very small portions. I've also lost a bit of weight, which is nice, although losing it as a result of coughing so hard I couldn't keep a proper meal down isn't exactly the best nor healthiest method of weight loss.
Worst thing about bronchitis? Not being able to laugh is a real bitch (my throat is to sore to sustain a bout of laughter; whenever I start laughing at something it quickly turns into a coughing fit, so I end up suppressing my funny bone as much as I can). When I saw Snakes On A Plane last night and watched a grown man get his johnson bit off by an enraged snake, I wanted to laugh, and in a more healthier state I would have laughed and wept tears of joy, but all I could was grin politely and murmur "yikes". That is agony, people. If I can't laugh at a dick joke, then the terroists (bronchitis) have won.
And now if you'll excuse me, faithful readers, I'm off to get some more of that codeine. To paraphrase the late Rick James, codeine is a hell of a drug.