I’ve been ill. Not even “ooh I have a cold, may stay off work today” ill either. Proper ill, like when you were a child.
Well the weekend after the last entry was quite fun.
Lost In Translation was lovely, slow moving, gentle and looked superb. I agree with Liam after we saw it, I’d leave Giovanni Ribisi for Bill Murray. Who wouldn’t?
After the film we got drunk and talked shit whilst staring at MTV2. I love getting drunk and talking shit. One of my favouritest things. It was a late night though – Liam could be found at 7am using my computer to play on nexus and prestone.
On Saturday evening we went to my friend Deans wifes 30th birthday. Does that make sense? Anyway after failing to find Marie’s car keys, I ended up driving to the little village near Burnley where the party was taking place. It meant I couldn’t drink but I didn’t mind as I started to ache and feel really tired. This I attributed to lying on the sofa till nearly 5am talking the aforementioned “shit”. When I didn’t feel any better on Sunday –even after eating Liam’s discos- I thought I was coming down with a cold.
I thought this on Monday and Tuesday as well – I was running a bit of a temperature but it was probably yet another fucking cold or maybe flu at the very worst.
We went to see The Superkings play in Manchester on Tuesday night. It was really good, I’d not seen Dave’s band before and I really enjoyed it. I’d have enjoyed it even more if I didn’t feel so fucking awful. Anyway Dave gave us a mention before the last song which was really nice and we both appreciated it.
I woke up on Wednesday feeling like shit and deteriorated from there. I was running a mental temperature, just wearing a T-shirt would cause me to sweat uncontrollably. I had a permanent headache and felt like my legs had been severely twatted with a baseball bat.
A trip to the doctors on Thursday didn’t show anything up. They noted I was even pastier than usual and sweat was pouring from my back and head but bar that I looked okay. They tried to take blood out of my arm but the veins had pissed off somewhere and after about three attempts to try and get blood from my arm, I went white and started to slide off the chair. So they abandoned that.
Then that night after a sweat-reducing shower I found the cause of the problem. Under my left ear my glands had swollen to the size of several golf balls.
So I went back to the doctor again where they diagnosed me with ‘parotitis’ – probably due to a bacterial infection. Due to the severity of it, I was given industrial-strength antibiotics. Well even though I felt awful, it now felt we were heading in the right direction. I hoped this would clear this up, allow me to retain more body water so my piss was less “black” and maybe become interested in stuff again. Since the Tuesday I’d started to become disinterested in everything, TV, films and music did nothing for me. I didn’t feel hungry or thirsty, I just sat there staring into space. Which was quite frankly rubbish.
Oh, then it got worse. The antibiotics meant I started to feel very very sick. I was sick on Friday and then for the rest of the weekend, I felt even worse than I had before. I had nothing to eat, the thought of drinking water actually revolted me and I just lay moping on the sofa or in bed. And being sick of course.
I went back to the doctors on Monday and stopped being sick long enough to explain the situation. He swapped my antibiotics and gave me something to calm my stomach down. Well, Monday and Tuesday go down amongst the worst days of my life. On Tuesday afternoon I sat from about 1pm till 4pm being sick. Constantly with no break in between. This probably wouldn’t have been as awful if there was anything in my stomach but there was nothing at all. After about two hours of retching, foul-tasting globules of bile started to appear and I became a bit light-headed. I think my body decided to release its reserve of endorphins then as I started to space out a bit.
Marie came home from work to find me uncommunicative and probably dribbling. I can’t really remember, my brain had shut up shop for the day. She phoned the doctor who told me to stop taking the antibiotics – I already sort of had done that as anything that went in my mouth re-appeared less than a minute later. He also prescribed me some pills to stop the vomiting.
These were mental things, the same pills they give to kids undergoing cancer treatment to combat the side effects of chemotherapy. Poor little sods.
Stopping the antibiotics seemed to stop the puking, I felt 4% better on Wednesday and 18% better on Thursday. I went back to the doctors where he noticed –as I had- that the lump had gone down a lot. He told me to take things easy as the bastard may recur – if it does I’ll kill us all.
I felt better over this weekend and even ventured into town.
Now, the doctor didn’t really want to commit to it but he seemed to back up my hunch that the infection may have arisen from my trip to the dentist I mentioned in my last blog, either due to infected equipment or the trauma of such a bad job. Whether it is or not –it fucking is their fault you know- I’m sending a complaint letter about the way I was treated, both to the dentist and to the dental association. I’ll keep it professional, stern yet keeping just to the facts, even though I want to fill it with swear words and the horrendous retribution I’d like to visit upon the dentist in question. Bitch!
So we’ll see what happens there.
Anyway it was fucking horrible, only bearable because of the way Marie looked after me. She didn’t moan even though I was a horrible burden and incapacitated for over a week. I know I was a worry and a pain in the arse but she got me through it and I’ll be eternally grateful.
A big-up to the doctors as well, who spent time trying to find out what was wrong with me and seemed to genuinely care about my well-being. So fucking different from my previous doctor.
I also got a lovely card off my friends, I’ll see them this weekend and it’ll be ace because I’m so in the mood now for getting really pissed and talking that much-loved shit again. Hee, I knew I was getting better when I listened to Soldier Girl on Friday and felt the joy return to my heart again. It gave my joy back!
Sadly I missed seeing The White Stripes last week in Blackpool. I was really looking forward to it, they are fantastic live and I so wanted to see them again. We gave away our tickets to Liam and Dave, it was good to give the tickets to good friends and not see them go to waste. They brought me a T-shirt back which was really cool. I did feel awful about Marie missing out though – so not fair on her. She missed a great concert to look after a sweaty, pasty man who’d lost about a stone in weight over a week.
It’s Marie’s birthday this weekend, we’re going away for a few days to the lakes next week but this weekend we’re having a cocktail party. Hee hee, my crystal ball predicts I’ll drink half the booze myself and then be found wandering the streets with the 28 Days Later soundtrack playing inside my head. It should be cool though, I have a casino. Casino!
Marie shouldn’t worry about being 28, she still looks about 21. Anyway I’ll be 30 in about 8 months so what’s she worrying about. I’m gonna make my thirtieth one to remember. There will be food, booze, fighting and anything else which will make me smile.
I managed to see Big Fish on Sunday night, I thought it was really lovely. I wasn’t that bothered about seeing it but I’m glad I did as it was sweet and entertaining.
Guitar lesson tonight. Missed last weeks obviously, so we’re already behind. I probably missed the lesson where we were taught “windmilling” and feedback as well. Bah!
Bah bah!
God, I so want some sweet booze.