So I woke up Saturday with my head feeling like a bowling ball and having intermittent coughing fits. Fan effing tastic. Did the normal “kill it with fire” for the weekend - lots of water/Gatorade and Day/NyQuil, and was only back to “maybe” this morning. Yeah I reeeeeeally shoulda kept my stupid ass at home today. I’ve successfully made myself so much worse, I went into a coughing fit trying to tell K something, and had to race to the bathroom before I puked on the floor.
So my head now feels like an atlas stone, I’ve coughed so much it feels like I’ve been repeatedly kicked in the back, and swallowed a flaming sword. So, no, I’ll not be going in tomorrow. R will be there, and with everything rattling around in my head, I am probably best to avoid her for a little bit.
No, I’ve not called the therapist yet. I would tomorrow, but not really a good idea for me to make speaky speaky at the moment. I’d bash my head against the wall at this point, if not for the fact I’d probably go into coughing hell.
C’est la vie.
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