Its been a tough week.
This time last week, I was buzzing on the endorphins of an afternoon spent out in the sun. As I tucked myself up in bed at the end of a busy weekend I uttered a couple of little coughs. “Uh, oh” I thought. Sam had been ill all weekend – I hoped that this wasn’t the harbinger of illness to come for me.
It was.
Monday I felt awful. Could not get warm at all, sore throat & ears, feeling miserable. And I was on duty, working ’till 10 pm. Tuesday didn’t dawn much brighter and I came home at 3 o’clock (free period) and went to bed for an hour and half, got up, pottered and went back to bed a t nine.
It did me the world of good – by Wednesday I was beginning to feel human again. But I overestimated myself – refereed a game I shouldn’t have: 5 mins in and I realised it was going to be a struggle.
Skipped spinning on Friday – a real indicater of how bad I’ve been. Feel I’m gradually on the mend, but still have a wracking cough. One of the (to me) most noticable aspects of the illness, in addition to the physical symptons, has been the slowing of my thoughts and actions. It’s almost as if I’ve been enveloped in slurry of syrup that has just made everything that much harder.
Need to get my mojo back next week, I don’t like being ill.