At 4am on Saturday morning my body wakes me up. It wakes me up to inform me I’m ill, I’m very, very ill. Now when I’m ill I usually sleep very very well. This time though my body had altered me to the fact I was ill and getting worse. Being a bloke that meant nothing. To be fare I don’t remember much about Saturday other than the pains, the sweat, the bad head and extremely sore throat. I didn’t get up, my parents did my shopping dropped it off apparently and left me looking unwell cuz that's what I wanted. Sunday I got up at some point. Changed my bed linen and took the dripping wet linen round my parents for them to wash. When I went round they looked amazed to see me I didn’t twig for a moment I wasn’t going to be alright. I washed my car and had a tinker with it before going back in to the house to see them to say I’ve made a mistake I’ve got to go home and to bed.
And so I actually got worse than yesterday, The worst bit though was the sore throat, and the coughing with it and the lumps of horribleness that I quiet literally vomited out of my lungs with great pain. Er Yuk
I stayed in bed for some time.
Eventually I had to eat, something soft, and nutricous
I also had angle delight, rice pudding. And that's it really. My body hurt to much to read, to watch TV so i just lay there and for the most of it watched the cracks in the ceiling slowly get bigger!
One thing was for sure, as soon as I was well enough I’d sort out a doctor like I kept saying I would all this time.