I was took proper poorly last night, coughing and spluttering until I thought my world was about to end.
It didn’t, of course. Just felt like it. It was far worse than it need have been because I was ‘fasting’ in readiness for a blood test. In the end I could take no more of it and indulged myself in a small mug of coffee, skimmed milk, no sugar. And then, because I felt so much closer to better, I just had to have a couple of slices of dry toast. And then, because I’d coughed myself silly and dizzy, I threw caution to the wind and mixed up a paracetamol, sugar and lemon toddy and flopped onto the bed, exhausted.
They were very understanding at the surgery, cancelled my appointment, and arranged to have a doctor call me back for a phone triage session.
He was very understanding, too, saying all the right things and asking the right questions. I have a week’s supply of broad-spectrum antibiotic which, on past experience, just about eliminate the darn cough. There may be just a little of it left, and then we’ll go for a week’s course of low-dose steroid.
I’ll be really surprised if that doesn’t do the trick because it worked a few winters back and I had been far worse than this year.
It’s now some hours since the first dose of antibiotic and I’m feeling much improved. Still coughing now and then but it doesn’t hurt the way it has been. And I got a good two hour siesta.
I have to admit it’s getting better.
