...I wasn't actually at death's door yesterday. Well, I know I didn't claim to be on here, so maybe it was mostly in my own feverish mind that I was going through the checklist of symptoms of pneumonia and wondering how close I was to it.
I am not sure if it can have been flu' either, as today I feel far too human, now the pounding headache has gone. So I must, I suppose, put my hand up to common-or-garden chesty cold, or just possibly bronchitis. Whatever the hell it is/was it is a doozy, and I cannot remember feeling so laid low by a bug since I caught norovirus in Watford General when I had a hysterectomy in February 2006.
The Husband had this about ten days ago, and took to his bed for a short while. He also at the time had a very sore shoulder where he dislocated it once back in the days when he did karate, in the dim and distant past when he was young and fit and lithe and supple. Yeah. I remember those days as well, when I was young and fit and lithe and supple. But for both of us those days are twenty of thirty years ago now. So we are wondering is it that this virus is particularly nasty, or is it that we are now old crocks and can withstand such things so much less well than we would have done even ten years ago.
Whatever it is, I don't want to undergo what I just underwent in the past three days again in a hurry. So next winter we will have the flu jab (in case that is what it was) like I used to do in the days when I was teaching in schools, because the little darlings were filthily buggy and I am moderately asthmatic. We were both offered it last autumn, but it got overlooked because we were so busy fitting the new kitchen, etc.
Dur! WRONG! Do NOT make that silly mistake again, Goldenoldenlady.
It only remains for me to thank my blogdom interlocutors for their kind concern yesterday, and then I can finish typing this and think about actually doing something today to make up for the fact that yesterday was a write-off. My ribs are still very sore, so coughing and sneezing hurt, but if I stay very still, or move very slowly, it seems so far this morning that I am much less likely to do either. So it's a sluggish tortoise sort of a Sunday in prospect for me.
But still so much better than the Saturday which preceded it. For which relief, much thanks.