Thought I was getting better on Thursday.
I was wrong.
Seven tablets taken, and the fight is finally on.
Everything aches. Each minor niggle sustained in the last three months. The weight that I slammed into right leg. That turned left ankle. Back and shoulders accept that ‘muscle and joint pain’ is on the antibiotic list of ‘side effects’ and you’ll fucking suck it up. My left hand can’t even squeeze a toothpaste tube, so it’s time to look at the bright side in a desperate attempt to stay positive. Mobility is UP. Reach is BETTER. Weight is DOWN and maybe this time you could make the most of this and not let it creep back up with bad habits.
Is the dizziness another side effect of the antibiotics or is there not enough oxygen getting to my lungs?
Eight tablets taken and it’s okay, I don’t have to go to the Hospital.
All afternoon, energy has drained from a grey body: it isn’t the infection but the antibiotics destroying my system, reducing me to a sofa-bound wreck, either too hot or cold. Six side effects of the drug are now showing, and I can’t sleep, because muscles in my left arm can be felt healing. There desperately needs to be a distraction. NCIS saves me, but vitally distracts an overactive imagination. The last time I binge-watched was when pneumonia took me to Hospital. That was 2004.
The parallels between this and that have already been drawn.
Nine tablets taken and you stop worrying at 4am.
Husband deserves the bed because the sofa shouldn’t be where he goes to let me sleep tonight. Even with the wheezing, discomfort and pain, it is just a chest infection. Learn not to build your part up. Get a sense of realism, and get help far sooner. Listen to your body more than is currently the case, and let medical professionals diagnose issues AND NOT YOU. This is your scheduled wakeup call.
You need more help than you’re currently taking.
It’s a lovely Saturday, and it’s finally warm enough to sit the garden with ‘The War of the Worlds.’
Time to reassess on Monday.