I signed myself off work yesterday, and “stayed at home” today. It feels ridiculous to write the words “stayed at home”, because I work from home.
At first there was a feeling of letting somebody down – of admitting defeat – when I called in and told those that matter that I would not be appearing online. It took a while to get past that. My other half had a huge go at me earlier in the week – after working through the worst of the virus I had somehow caught.
I have no idea if it was flu, or COVID. Given the shakes I had the night it hit, very probably COVID. The restricted breathing ever since – stereotypical.
I’m slowly improving though. It turns out sitting quietly and not taxing myself too much is working (don’t tell my other half – she’ll be unbearable). Of course “not taxing myself” is a relative term. I’ve still been doing the washing up, getting washing through the machine, and (if you can believe it) dis-assembling bed frames, and moving them up and down the stairs.
Yesterday afternoon my eldest daughter got home from work looking particularly thunderous, so I suggested walking into town to get something to eat together. I really shouldn’t have done it – my lungs may as well have been murmuring “well thankyou VERY much” – but I did. I paid for it later.
Today has been a little bit better. Hopefully tomorrow will be better again.
I think the worst part about being sick is missing out on things. I know a good friend wanted to go to the cinema this week, and perhaps didn’t go because I wasn’t around. I feel awful about that.
I hate being a burden, or somehow causing other people’s plans to change.
Maybe my body will get it’s arse into gear by tomorrow.
Maybe that movie is still on at the cinema?