It's been a hectic or internet-less week hence my online absence from this blog.
Monday - feel poopy. Sleep in. Go to work late. Stagger through an afternoon where I cherry-pick the easiest, most brainless tasks on my list because I'm still feeling stupefied on the drugs.
Make a call to someone important that doesn't know me? Save that particular task until tomorrow just in case I find myself on the phone in the middle of a sentence suddenly wondering just who I am talking to. A boring and repetitive database search? I'm your gal.
In the evening we go see a gig we had tickets for. It's the first time I've ever sat in a big comfy armchair throughout an entire gig, way at the back, only able to see the band on the monitors suspended from the ceiling. Rilo Kiley sounded great. But I still don't know what they look like.
Because we're out after work and the band don't come on until 9.30pm, we're forced to eat at one of those Chinese buffet places. It was that or pay through the nose for Islington designer food. I knew I could be paying through an entirely different part of my body but I took the risk.
Tuesday - the risk didn't pay off. I'm not laid low by my stomach, but it certainly drags me down and wears me out. Plus after four months of constantly moving from diarhorrea to constipation and back again, my bum just plain hurts. I'm beginning to worry I have developed piles. The side effect that dares not speak it's name. Great...
Work drags but is busy so I motor through it. Wednesday passes similarly and I get more exhausted as the week wears on. I'm letting myself lie in in the mornings but on Thursday I have an external meeting with a prospect. So I spend three hours Wednesday night doing the presentation and go in for 9am Thursday ready to go. Unfortunately ninety minutes later I find myself having to cancel the meeting at very short notice because two colleagues of mine let me down despite me triple confirming their availability. Normally I'd be happy to carry a meeting solo but I cannot do it right now and need company. Someone to pick up the thread if I lose it. Plus the guy we were meant to be meeting has already met me, so I'd be nothing new...
The prospect doesn't mind too much - he's off on holiday tomorrow and could do with being freed up. But it's grossly unprofessional and I'm really pissed off. I realise that I'm mostly pissed off because I worked until midnight the night before on getting the work ready. I do not need to work until midnight when it's unnecessary at the moment. I can do without that.
This makes me so angry and upset most of Thursday is spent in wasted energy feeling frustrated and let down. I leave early feeling shit and go straight to bed for a couple of hours.
When Friday morning arrives I've caught up on sleep but have a slight temperature. So I stay home and work on stuff from the sofa. We leave London at five thirty for Hereford and I feel a lot better - but still end up sleeping for England overnight. Saturday and Sunday are an improvement. No temperature. We see an old travelling buddy on Saturday night at a chilled-outl, rural-bohemian party where we end up giving advice to a professional clown about driving to Timbuctou. Sunday brings a day out on the banks of the Wye with some friends of R's who are emigrating to New Zealand soon. For a moment I start to feel normal, and it feels like the whole permanent watch-out for side-effects is once again behind me.
But today, after various chores, I drive myself back to London leaving R in Hereford to sort his kitchen before the fitter comes next week. I've felt tired and leaden all day, and take my temperature at 5pm out of curioisity. It's about 37 degrees. On the high side, but nothing to write to your doctor about.
By the time I reach Membury services it's at 37.6. At the traffic lights on the A316 at Richmond, it's 38 degrees.
I haven't taken it since getting into the flat. But I know it's high. I'm hoping to sleep it off and that I haven't picked up an infection from someone. Noone I recall talking to at either social event looked or sounded ill. R even cancelled seeing a friend of his on Friday because she sounded snotty on the phone.
Bugger bugger bugger. Off to bed to sweat it out...