Last week wasn’t exactly a stellar week. In fact, it was downright miserable. It started off well enough, hiking the trail to The Bridge to Nowhere with Mary and little Miss Olivia on Monday. But then I went back to work Tuesday night, which is when things began to take a turn for the worse. It’s not that work itself was to blame for my woes. In fact, both shifts went by fairly unremarkably, as far as patient assignments go. Nope, my descent into misery can only be attributed to my own body betraying me.
It all started with a sniffle and a sneeze. I thought it could be allergies. But then the sniffles and sneezes progressed to a sore throat, which progressed to a nose so runny, you could have mistaken it for a faucet. By Thursday morning, all I could think of was crawling into bed and hiding from the rest of the world. And that is exactly what I did. For three days, I shut out the rest of the world and slept, waking occasionally to blow my nose, ingest some Tylenol and other cold remedies, and sip on soup. Nuclear war could have erupted and I would have been none the wiser. I didn’t emerge from my cocoon of blankets and Kleenex until last night, when it was finally time for me to go back to work.
What really irks me about the whole situation is that I had major plans for the week. I was going clean. I was going to organize. I was going to tackle a couple of projects that I had been putting off. Instead, I succumbed to sickness and did nothing more than bury my head under the covers, wasting my time off. Like I said, it wasn’t the best week. Let’s hope this week doesn’t follow suit.
