Ask Me How I Feel
- Details
- Category: Blog Wednesday - Simon
- Written by Simon
I’ll tell you.
Like death.
Worse than death.
Like death that came back to life and then died again.
Just in time for my favorite holiday, I have been struck down in my prime with what I’ve been told by the doctor is a chest infection. I have to admit I am quite proud to say that I have a chest infection, since I’m pretty sure Faith was starting to think I was faking my horrendous cough in order to lie on the couch and have her bring me glasses of orange juice all day. She smiles to my face, but I heard whispers of “manflu” when she was on the phone to her sister.
I have been given antibiotics, and although I’ve only had them for a day, I’m already feeling a bit better just knowing they’re doing their job, fighting off the infection.
There’s an advert I’ve seen on telly of a giant mucus monster attacking a man in bed. The man takes some Benylin and defeats the monster, and for his bravery wins a good night’s sleep. To be honest, in the past it was one of those things you kind of ignore, but when I saw it this weekend between what were probably the 300th and 301st episodes of The Simpsons I’ve watched over my week of illness, I suddenly felt a deep connection to the poor man. I’m pretty sure I’ve come face-to-face with that mucus monster once or twice in the past couple of nights.
Sadly, our 13-month-old son has also contracted my disease. Apparently his is not a chest infection – just a bad cold. Or maybe “boyflu.” Either way, he seems to be receiving a higher standard of care from Faith. I might lodge a complaint with management.
