Rockin' Eve

Most of you are simply suffering from alcohol poisoning or atrocious levels of self-involvement today. I wish my personal ya-yas did not extend beyond misplaced false eyelashes. If you have been in contact with me in person in the past few days, and you begin to develop a cough, go to the damn doctor. I am not even kidding.

I had a dry cough since Sunday night, a tid bit irritating, but nothing special, which I attributed to dust levels as we finished packing. But on New Year's Eve, I found myself passed out in the ER at Lowell General, with an i.v. stabbed pretty much all the way up my arm. The blood gnomes poked and prodded, and I was x-rayed and nearly received a spinal tap because they were hoping I had something sexy, like menningitis. And holy shit, who wants a spinal tap? By the time they got around to that, I was lucid enough to complain.

Instead, I am the lucky winner of a case of viral pneumonia. I was fine in the morning, and completed the move and cleaning the apartment. Then I took a nap, and boom. I have whopping pills to take, and the pleasing knowledge that "they probably won't do much, since it's viral. Treat the symptoms, get plenty of rest." If you are curious, symptoms include fever, chest-wracking coughing, and pain in every single joint. It took a whole day to get around to forcing Mr. H to find my laptop. And that was just because I want to warn YOU. Back to rooting around until I find a position where I can breathe.

Posted 7:39 PM by Licketysplit