I'm sure it was mentioned in howevermanythingsitwas to do before you're thirty and I've finally done it. Repeatedly, as it happens, over the last week. Epistaxis, goodness, that does make it sound exciting. Can't believe I've not done that before. You can picture me, at some time after 1am, awaking from a doze, coughing fit to burst and then doing so and bleeding all over my sheets. The bed looked like a murder scene after my drippy, fumbling attempts to work it out. I nearly had hysterics but didn't quite have the energy and so burst into rather pitiful tears. That did not last either. I was less surprised when it happened again and then again - though fortunately not all over my sheets. I am adding stain removal to my resume skills. I deserve a big gold star.
I have forgotten how to be alone in public. It makes me nervous, I've lost the knack. Out today I felt every eye upon me, a thousand laughing, pitying glances, a thousand thoughts that would do me no good to hear. Thoughts in that quick way one has when one crowd watches. The service people all treat me like scum. I like to think they do it to everyone. I am having to practice doing things on my own. Things outside routine. New things, old things done over. I need to force myself out and out of this rut.
I am tired, anxious, and depressed. I am so sick of being sick. It hasn't gone away. Will it ever go away? Will I spend the rest of my days obsessing about my wrecked and scabby nose that alternately sprays mucus and blood? And a throat sore but forcing words out at the rate of two hundred calls a day?
I complain too much I am sure. The good people, the better people, never complain at all - they take everything, all the time, they have so much that I do not have and I don't know what it is. They are simply better, I suppose.
5 comments:
Nails, I share your pain. After I spent 3 days alone, in pain, I realised I'd have to organise my life for the (hopefully not)next time this happened. Online shopping, banking,getting an account with the local pharmacy which delivers, keeping the pantry full of tinned soup and spare toilet rolls, the list became endless.
I have just been to my first afternoon party since March and it was damn hard to walk in alone.
I had to google Epistaxis, I had this image of you suffering from consumption Bronte style.
Glad it's not consumption though.
And man, I feel you on the sickness thing. It's made even worse though when you have to get your own stuff when really people should be bringing it to you and wiping your feverish brow.
Yeah, there are better people just like you say, but I don't care for their company.
I don't trust anyone who doesn't complain...I come from a country of complainers! We love it!
Jahteh, isn't it odd that doing things alone can be so hard when, really, it's how people spend most of their time?
I need a spare carton of tissues - just in case.
Lucy, consumptives are invariable pale and slender - neither of which I am so I think we'll have to accept that I will meet my end in a decidedly less romantic fashion.
Um, Mark, I still don't know how to take that. Despite my natural inclinations I shall assume it's a compliment.
Miles, it's nice to have a national hobby.
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