90% Mucus 10% Whinge

I love Winter I do.  It's cold (in fact it's supposed to snow here today) and you all know how I feel about cold.  It's right up there with giving Johnny Depp a sponge bath or eating chocolate off his belly.  Cold is good.  But unfortunately it also has a dark side.  It's also flu season.  The time of year where people cough on the back of your neck in line at the supermarket, or sneeze all over the produce section.  The time of year where you need a surgical mask and a blow torch to kill the bugapalooza growing on every surface in town.

Damn you sick people who can't keep your mucus to yourselves.  You should all be hunted down and kneecapped.

In case you can't guess, I have caught a bug.  And, I'm not happy Jan.

I have been reduced to a fetid cloud of pestilence, mankifying in bed.

Initially it was somewhat amusing.  Normal sick.  Sick like other people.  Sick that has treatments like chicken soup and Vicks Vapour Rub.  There was a novelty factor, that was somewhat pleasing.  However, that novelty factor wore off the second I went to take a sip of my coffee only to have a steady stream of super runny mucus run from my nose to plop in my mug.  This is not on people.

Since that time my body has been taken over by a ravenous horde of bugs, till I am now composed primarily of mucus.

I am past the point of walking around with tissues protruding from my nostrils in a vain attempt to stem the unending tide of mucus.  I am past the point of sitting miserably in the shower letting it's free flowing grossness be swept away by the shower nozzle.

I am even past the point of uncontrollable full body sneezing.  Thankfully, I have not reenacted my infamous Liverpool Kiss, Kitchen Bench incident (tip for the day, don't sneeze whilst bent over the kitchen bench) as I have been to unwell to enter the kitchen.

I am now at the joyous point where it solidifies in your lungs and produces the ultra-sexy Darth Vader wheeze.  I may or may not have amused myself for about an hour yesterday by saying "Luke, I am your father" in between lung wrenching coughs.

Stupidly, I though I was winning the war against my pestilence and went to physio on Tuesday.  Fool!  I should be studied for my heightened level of stupidity.  I'm pretty sure I heard the bugs in my lungs laughing at me, though that could have been my feverish delirium.

My throat feels like I have been chugging razor blades, and my ears want to burst.  My head is in a vice and even my eyelashes hurt.  Perhaps most distressing to my concerned loved ones, my whinge quota has gone up ten fold.

To say this has played havoc with Bob would be an understatement.  Standing and breathing, is over-rated right?  Who needs a pulse?  Not me that's for sure.  Though I could have done without the tachycardia and stabbing chest pain last night that made me feel as if my whole body was beating.

Impersonating characters from Star Wars aside, I have attempted to distract myself during this time.

Coma sleep has been quite good.  Though waking up to find your face stuck to the couch or pillow by mucus that works better than super glue, is a bit of a downside.

Whimpering into my pillow has passed many an hour.

Watching Zombieland did make me laugh/cough/choke.  And seemed somewhat appropriate given the various disgusting fluids exploding from my body.

Staring blankly at the computer screen for hours on end as your brain tries desperately to decipher those weird black squiggles, is quite productive.

I have redecorated the bat cave.  I'm going for the littered crack house look.  A pile of moist used tissues over there, another over here.  Multiple glasses and dregs-filled mugs.  Casually tossed books.  Throw pillows with suspicious mucus stains and funk coated pjs mutating in the clothes hamper.  Half empty Vicks jars and empty Panadol blister packs complete the ensemble.  Add in fragrance Eu De Sick, and I think I'm destined for cutting edge design magazines.

Luckily my supportive family have been on hand with comments like:

"Hope you get better Mum.  Remember you need to drive me to the movies on Friday", or

"So we're on our own for dinner then?"

Where would we all be without the love and understanding of our families.

So I shall now head back to my snot encrusted pillows, wipe the eye boogers from my tender lids and dream sweet dreams of Captain Jack turning up on my doorstep with a box of super soft aloe vera soaked Kleenex.

Cheers
Michelle

PS Any tips for passing the time whilst caught in the less than tender embrace of pestilence would be greatly appreciated.

After looking in the mirror this morning I realise I am truly bringing sexy back, yeah!