Ok, so this cold has seriously outstayed its welcome. By Wednesday I had decided enough was enough: a weekend of leading up to it and then two days of snot surely meant I could be certain I was on the mend? So I carried on with all the plans I had made, secure in the knowledge that I was on The Road To Recovery. Shame no one told my cold that.
I woke Thursday morning feeling worse than ever. Ironically I had an appointment with my GP. All round the waiting room there are posters declaring Death to All who WASTE an Appointment for a Cold! Or something along those lines. I fluctuated between feeling I should have a bell and shout ‘Unclean, unclean!’ and holding up a sign promising I was not there about my cold. Given the wide berth around me, my fellow Waiting Room dwellers would have preferred the former. As it was, on entering her room, the first thing I greeted my GP with was not, ‘Hello,’ but ‘I’vegotacoldbutI’mnothereaboutthat!!’ We just needed to touch base prior the chemo rollercoaster begins. She was lovely.
After that, I went to bed in the hope of tricking this slimy virus into believing I am recovered. You see, today, I should have had a whole day of shopping and champagne and sisterly loveliness. We have had it planned for ages. And I cannot blame the cancer for raining on this parade. Well, I probably could if I tried hard enough but it would be a bit tortuous.
As it was, I still went. And it was still a day of sisterly loveliness. The Captain drove me over. She wrapped in a duvet and snuggled me down on the sofa with mugs of green tea steaming beside me. We still shopped but it was more of an online experience. We squeezed in a brief excursion for paracetamol, cough stuff and throat sweets and managed to come home with a cardi too. We are very efficient shoppers.
We continued with our journey to Oopnorthshire and I am now languishing in the ancestral home having maternal love poured upon me. Vicks Vapour Rub has already been mentioned but I think I have fended it off for now.