"The time has come," the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:
Of shoes... and ships... and sealing-wax...
Of cabbages... and kings...
And why the sea is boiling hot...
And whether pigs have wings." Lewis Carroll
There it was – life - gently swimming along in a peaceful yet fun way. When bam! Without expectation, encouragement or salacious invitation I got poorly. The mother of all wicked throats put together attacked and knocked me for six. Nay, skittled, pole axed. In fact, out for the count. One was a heap. You know things aren’t right when the doctor says, Open your mouth.” Then visibly winces and says, “Oh, dear God!” when you do!
Acute Pharyngitis of the strep variety is a vicious mean bug that made me hurt all over. It was as much as I could do to roll over in bed let alone get up. Couldn’t speak which was pleasing (too pleasing!) to some and couldn’t swallow: without breaking out in an unladylike sweat, it was so painful. It wasn’t pretty. And, certainly wasn’t fun. The brilliance of antibiotics must not be under-stated. When they are right they hit the spot and perform their magic.
Several days later I am floating about looking like an extra in Shaun of the Dead. Heaps better although ready to swoon at any opportunity with tiredness of a silly magnitude but very excited by feeling slightly more with it with each passing moment.
I have found the perfect venue for my small group Past Life Tourism workshops – more info very soon. Wondering if the shock of that made me keel over?
