Still barely here, alas ...

I am no longer sick. My body has not quite caught up with the news, though. In a bid to stop the coughing fits and wheezing at irregular intervals, I went to the doctor.

'Oh yes,' he said, 'you've had the flu and the post-viral cough will hang around for eight to twelve weeks this year.'

'WHAT??!!'

'It's a bad year. You should have had a flu shot.'

'Yes, I realise that. I feel like a numpty. Useless now, though.'

'Quite. I'll nag you next year. For now, you can try cough syrup ...'

'Makes me wheezy, or sleepy, or slurry ...'

'Just sit around and rest for a couple of months, then. Stop laughing, you'll cough. OK, try Ventolin.'

'Ventolin? But, I've never had asthma.'

'You're wheezing irregularly and after exercise, Ventolin stops wheezing. Actually, you're terrible with drugs*, you can have Bricanyl, it's easier. Should stop you from scaring people at the gym with your sound effects.'

'Marvy! Does it have any side effects?'

'Coughing.'

'You can just tell me if you hate me and I will find another doctor, you know!'

'Eh, you're not the worst patient I have.'

Fast forward a day, and Mr B and I have just gone to drop our bags off in the lockers at the gym tonight and met up again at the elliptical machines (I shun them and do hill climbs on the bike, because I can close my eyes and remember actual hill climbs on actual bikes!)

'You took your time,' he said.

'I had to use my inhaler.'

'HEE! You're the fat kid at school! OW!!!'

On behalf of asthmatics and fat kids at school everywhere, he has a bruised bicep. He still holds it was worth it as a chance to mock me.




* This is not code for 'spent my twenties as a coked-up rockstar', rather that I once had to be carried home after 15mL of cough syrup with pseudoephidrine in it. I think I exhausted my drug quota in utero. Bloody hippies!

Still barely here, alas ...

I am no longer sick. My body has not quite caught up with the news, though. In a bid to stop the coughing fits and wheezing at irregular intervals, I went to the doctor.

'Oh yes,' he said, 'you've had the flu and the post-viral cough will hang around for eight to twelve weeks this year.'

'WHAT??!!'

'It's a bad year. You should have had a flu shot.'

'Yes, I realise that. I feel like a numpty. Useless now, though.'

'Quite. I'll nag you next year. For now, you can try cough syrup ...'

'Makes me wheezy, or sleepy, or slurry ...'

'Just sit around and rest for a couple of months, then. Stop laughing, you'll cough. OK, try Ventolin.'

'Ventolin? But, I've never had asthma.'

'You're wheezing irregularly and after exercise, Ventolin stops wheezing. Actually, you're terrible with drugs*, you can have Bricanyl, it's easier. Should stop you from scaring people at the gym with your sound effects.'

'Marvy! Does it have any side effects?'

'Coughing.'

'You can just tell me if you hate me and I will find another doctor, you know!'

'Eh, you're not the worst patient I have.'

Fast forward a day, and Mr B and I have just gone to drop our bags off in the lockers at the gym tonight and met up again at the elliptical machines (I shun them and do hill climbs on the bike, because I can close my eyes and remember actual hill climbs on actual bikes!)

'You took your time,' he said.

'I had to use my inhaler.'

'HEE! You're the fat kid at school! OW!!!'

On behalf of asthmatics and fat kids at school everywhere, he has a bruised bicep. He still holds it was worth it as a chance to mock me.




* This is not code for 'spent my twenties as a coked-up rockstar', rather that I once had to be carried home after 15mL of cough syrup with pseudoephidrine in it. I think I exhausted my drug quota in utero. Bloody hippies!