Monday, January 24, 2005

It wasn’t the cough that carried her off…

Well that’s a flat out lie right there. Over the course of the last 8 days I have discovered the worst part of having a cold/viral infection.

It’s not the sinuses that get so tight it feels like you have bunch of dwarves slicing into the back of your eyeballs with heated cheese wires. It’s not the throat full of sandpaper tennis balls. It’s not even the ‘gonna sneeze, gonna sneeze, gonna sneeze… nah can’t be bothered’ runny nose. It’s the cough.

The cough that grabs you by the lungs at unexpected moments through the day and squeezes, and you were so much happier not knowing what colour your spleen was. It’s the cough that leaves you trembling like a slightly under set jelly and yet completely fails to clear any of that goopy glue that’s coating your chest. But most of all it’s the annoying little bugger of a tickly cough that puts in an appearance just after you’ve lain down at night, totally exhausted, got comfortable and thought ‘Hey, I’m going to get a good night’s sleep tonight’

Hah! No chance. Oh no. Let me tell you after 4 hours of trying to sleep and being woken up every 5-10 mins by this cough it takes an unfeasible amount of willpower not to throw things, like the bedside table, out the window.

I’m actually feeling a bit better today. I ventured back to work, albeit still feeling like a well-used dishrag. I still have the goopy glue and a voice to rival Barry White (yes it’s really that deep), and I have a horrible feeling that come bedtime tonight I’m going to discover that I still have The Cough.