I've kept a pretty regular diary on the progression of my duel with the common cold. Most of my entries were written in the dead of night, which is when most of my ensuing frustration occured. Anyone who has followed this blog knows that frustation is one of my big flaws. I admit frankly that I succumb easily to it. Meanwhile, my adventures in being sick started on the 22nd when I came home early from work. I've already mentioned that part of the adventure in a previous post, so I'll just pick up from where I left off, as most of the excitement started then. Not that coughing and moaning about being sick can be considered very exciting, but my social life is extremely limited and I take my excitement where I can.
For starters, things started off as an 18-hour flu and then changed into a cold. The battlefield, for the most part, has been in my throat, and the battle between the urge to cough up and the urge to swallow has been severe. This ongoing debate between these automatic reflexes has been the main topic of a couple of my journal entries. These two forces are inevitably going to work at cross-purposes where a cold is concerned. Crap comes up and then gets swallowed back down. Ugh. This has also been the source of much of my frustration, especially when it happened at night when I was trying to sleep.
Suspecting I was running out of sick time, I went to work for three days straight. Maybe not the best route to take, considering every teacher I ran into said I should be at home. It was the relentless coughing that tipped them off, I imagine. I mentioned in my last post about my Dad and how helpless he was feeling, but then Mom and my sister came home from Florida. Well, my throat was still too sore for me to eat much or talk, so she got it firmly in mind that I should be on some sort of prescribed meds. Then came the night of the 28th, when I tried 'Buckley's Mixture' and spent one of the worst nights I've spent in a very long time. It's like drinking 'Vick's Vapo-Rub', and then gagging everything but the kitchen sink out.
By the end of it, my throat and tongue hurt abominably and I was awash in despair. I had only gotten a couple of seconds' worth of sleep as well. Anyway, the next morning I went back to the walk-in and another doctor looked at me. Throat infection and developing chest infection. Time for some good, solid amoxicillin! That and stuff to clear up my infected sinuses (yeah, they're infected too). To make a long story short, it's better to get a second opinion. Sleep is still more elusive than I would like, but I am sleeping better, coughing less, and my throat is much improved. I think I've written enough about my disgusting forays into being sick for now. I may return to this topic a third time next week. Depends on how the amoxicillin is working. BYE.