Friday, October 19, 2007

They always say how doctors are the worst patients...

But I suspect that I could give some of the doctors of my acquaintance a run for their money.

It's the night before my daughter's birthday, and I have no voice.

I started losing it (my voice, stay on topic here) yesterday evening after yelling at my swim students for a few hours. No, I wasn't being unkind to them, I simply have to yell to be heard clearly over the din of swimmers and assorted distractions. But by mid-day today it was obvious the cold I thought I'd dodged had infiltrated my body and set-up a phlegm chop-shop in my chest. So as we were prepping the house today (then later carting around princesses) I was feeling worse and worse, until my throat was killing me from the post-nasal drip and my chest felt like it had a 26lb Frenchie on it, even when it didn't.

Luckily my darling wife ran to the store (braving crazy SA drivers in Fri evening traffic) to bring me some medicinal goodness.

Hurray for spouses who run out and get you what you need rather than poking you with a sharp stick!

Any way, I DESPISE being sick, and anything settling in my chest is especially hard on me since I'm already a trifle paranoid about obstructions in my airway (possibly a side-effect of being asthmatic).


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