blamebrampton: 15th century woodcut of a hound (Default)
[personal profile] blamebrampton
But I do feel like death warmed up.

As I was commenting to a friend the other day, I am at that stage of influenza where, in a 19th century novel, the doctor would reassure the family I am past the crisis and certain to pull through, and advise them to book a long holiday in a warm cottage by the seaside, where I should mind my chest for several months.

Instead, like every other twenty-first century sufferer lacking sufficient independent wealth, but possessed of enough wealth and health to not actually be dying -- for which I am grateful, I am dragging myself into work, where I spend several hours at a time wondering whether an en dash or em dash would best fit the use.

Ghastly.

In a week or two, I will have forgotten the whole hideousness until the next time I forget a flu shot, which says a lot about how amazingly healthy we are in this time and place.

Until my brain returns, sorry for all the comments I am missing leaving or replying to, sorry for the deranged ones I have managed, and I will catch up with everything on the weekend.

Date: 2010-09-09 11:27 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] blamebrampton.livejournal.com
I would organise amateur dramatics, and edited readings from Dickens -- only the exciting bits ;-)

It's so very true. Someone at work said, 'Are you still sick?' and I tersely, replied 'People DIE of flu, you know. They used to quite often, we're just lucky we mostly don't now.' and she looked at me as though I was insane. I'm not sure whether to throw Austen or my History of Medicine books at her ...

And Thank You! I will!

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