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ladyspriteYou know, in fantasy novels the hero and heroine can withstand almost anything. Hack one arm off, and they'll keep attacking with the other. They'll battle on with arrows sticking out of their back, none the worse for wear - injuries only make them look more noble. They never get sick, never fall prey to microscopic foes. You never read about them sneezing so hard they lose their grip on their sword, or feeling too lousy to save the world.
I am, quite obviously, not a fantasy heroine. I am also, equally obviously, quite sick. I have no voice, my head is pounding in time with my pulse, and my joints have all been filled with lava. Last night was especially fun - this is apparently one of those colds where you start out freezing, and wrap yourself in flannel and pile every blanket in the house on yourself, and then wake up two hours later stifling hot and drowning in your own sweat. So you strip, and kick off all the blankets, only to freeze half an hour later.
This morning I woke up half dead. But I pumped myself full of over the counter cold remedies and tea with honey, choked down a bite or two of breakfast, and once I was sure it would stay down, crawled off to work. They'll have to let me go home, I figured.
Ha.
I explained to my boss, via pantomime and gurgling whisper, that I was sick and not very useful. She explained in no uncertain terms that as long as I could sort of whisper, I could still see appointments. Joy.
When I nearly hacked up a lung on a patient, I decided that I needed to go home, and I must have looked pretty pathetic, because she stopped arguing. So here I am, home alone to try to rest up so I can go back to work again tomorrow. Time to go camp out on the sofa with a pot of tea and sappy holiday feel-good movies....
People in movies never get sick, either. Drat this real life.
I am, quite obviously, not a fantasy heroine. I am also, equally obviously, quite sick. I have no voice, my head is pounding in time with my pulse, and my joints have all been filled with lava. Last night was especially fun - this is apparently one of those colds where you start out freezing, and wrap yourself in flannel and pile every blanket in the house on yourself, and then wake up two hours later stifling hot and drowning in your own sweat. So you strip, and kick off all the blankets, only to freeze half an hour later.
This morning I woke up half dead. But I pumped myself full of over the counter cold remedies and tea with honey, choked down a bite or two of breakfast, and once I was sure it would stay down, crawled off to work. They'll have to let me go home, I figured.
Ha.
I explained to my boss, via pantomime and gurgling whisper, that I was sick and not very useful. She explained in no uncertain terms that as long as I could sort of whisper, I could still see appointments. Joy.
When I nearly hacked up a lung on a patient, I decided that I needed to go home, and I must have looked pretty pathetic, because she stopped arguing. So here I am, home alone to try to rest up so I can go back to work again tomorrow. Time to go camp out on the sofa with a pot of tea and sappy holiday feel-good movies....
People in movies never get sick, either. Drat this real life.
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Date: 2001-12-24 11:19 am (UTC)BTW, if you want to read adventure stories where the hero and heroine *do* get sick, and sometimes even die from it, you may wish to check out some of Louis L'amour's books. Yeah, I know, his name looks like a cliche for a lipstick western. But he wrote surprisingly well, and more realisticly than a lot of authors. _The Walking Drum_ is a good story that he wrote around a mideval theme.