Sick Bunny

"Huh?"

"I said I don't feel well"

Undeterred, ever hopeful for his early morning birthday bonus, hubby unwisely points out the bright side,

"You know, your voice sounds really sexy, when it's all raspy like that.."

Catching the look I throw fit to drop an elephant, he deflates.

"What? What did I say?"

I'm too busy hacking my lungs up to answer. Sheesh, this is bad. I sit up and spit a few green lumps of what feels like semi-digested bone out onto the tissue (yeah, I admit to it, I peeked).

Nice.

Still, at least it's serving to cool hubby's ardour.

Poor lad. It is his birthday, and we are on holiday, but as it simply hurts like hell for me to even breathe at this point, he's gonna' just have to do with the promise of birthday cake for now.

I scoot up and pad to the loo, which is where I suddenly have to stop to quell a scream.

(NB. Cystitis, to all you uninitiated males amongst us, is the female equivalent of having to pee with a scalding red hot poker up your privates. Naturally, this is a long drawn out stop and start process, being as how you instinctively need to clench every second or two in order to cease with the torture.)

Thing is, I don't ordinarily get chest infections, and I've never been particularly prone to cystitis either. To get both at the same time is nothing short of shameful, especially since I'm meant to be sunning it up on a beach in Greece.

And get a hold of this, as if I 'm not already sorry enough for myself, in the shower I only go and discover I've been stricken down by yet another dreaded lurgy.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!!!!!!!!!

Approximately eight inches south from my left armpit, what do I find but this huge, pulsating third nipple. 

(Well, that's what it looks like.)

It's a boil, a bloody great boil!! And it hurts.

A lot.

Then I find another one on my right hip.

Shit, can life get any better?

I don't even get boils. Talk about unfair!

Naturally, I can't fasten a bra around a boil, and my nether regions need as much fresh air as a frock can allow, so I'm resigned to going commando over the next few days.

What I really need is some serious medication.

A word to the wise here folks, never point at your fanny and wink at a Greek Pharmacist.. too much gets lost in the translation.

Finally, in lieu of cough medicine I'm given Lemsip, and in place of a lusty Vicks Nasal spray I'm handed a paltry eucalyptus stick to ram up my nose. I politely decline the proffered box of tampons.

Okay, it's far from perfect, but with double strength Lemsips every four hours, carrying that fetching plug up my nose, and with no painful undies threatening to lance my boils, life slightly improves.

Now, if only I can sit on my bum without squirming, I might even make it through to the end of the holiday without being arrested for cussing..

Helpful hubby to the rescue.

"Hey, isn't yogurt meant to be good for that?"

(Yes, yes I know NOW that that is for Thrush, not Cystitis, it's just a pity you weren't there with me at the time to tell me about that, isn't it? I'm  desperate enough to try anything at this point.)

Sadly, the restaurant doesn't dispense any syringes with their yogurts, but I'm game anyway.

Hubby helps (a tad more enthusiastically than called for).

A little squelchy, and exceedingly messy, he promises me an application every two hours or so will make a world of difference.

Sadly, he forgets to mention for whom.

Ah well.

It was worth a shot.

I finally resign myself to hijacking the youngest's inflatable and surrounding myself with an aura of "Touch me and you die".

It somehow gets me through.

 
Once back in Old Blighty again, I finally find the Doc, and jeez, look! I really was ill (Told you so).

Not only am I on a course of antibiotics, I'm on steroids and a ventilator too, not to mention awaiting the results of blood tests. Did I mention I actually passed out cold this morning.. ? I bloomin' well did, y'know!

So come on my friends, give me sympathy please, and lots of it too. (Hey, I'm giving my most brave and pathetic smile, cut me some slack here)!



This is an old post - no, I am not going on holiday this year, and can you blame me???

I've successfully farmed the girls out to go away with friends, Sam and hubby are taking off for a week without me, and Matt is happily working hard to save enough money to join his buddies in the south of France by the end of this month. 

Me?

I'm looking forward to long, peaceful walks with Jake on the beach, and full, blissful possession of the TV remote control upon my return..