My rusty throat feels better but my lungs are now wheezing as though I'd smoked all my life. Which is SO unfair. I haven't even smoked ONCE, not one, single cigarette. Ah well, at least I'm not lying in the hospital - like my colleague who was taken ill on Tuesday and ended up spending all night in intensive care. That was a shock to all of us, most of all him. It's meant that I've been pretty much left running the show at work as another colleague is off travellling for a week. It's been what you might call a baptism of fire. I've managed somehow but only just and the result is that the bug I was trying to shake off when I last wrote has grabbed me by the throat and started an offensive in my poor ol' bronchii (not sure if that should one 'i' or two and I'm too tired to go and find out). My lungs seem to get it every time. I read in a book somewhere that lung afflictions are, psychologically, to do with melancholy and unexpressed sadness. Somehow, that doesn't help at all.
I think I'm going to call in sick tomorrow and work from home. It's the only solution. No-one's going to thank me for coughing and spluttering my way through the day and, anyway, after a morning of that I'm so knackered, I need an hour's sleep. But on the other hand, there's so much that HAS to be done tomorrow, I can't just afford to turn of the computer and the phone and leave it at that. Heh, and I may even go and see a doctor. How about that? Get some real hard drugs to help this little affliction on its way. It's funny, you know, in England the doctor would give you antibiotics immediately - even for a common cold. That goes too far in my view. Over here on the Continent, it's much more usual for the doctor to prescribe tea with lemon and tell you to go and lie down for four days. And we think we can compete with Asia and the USA? Ha!
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