When the Sanatorium nurse gasps at the thermometer, you know you've got a pretty mean fever.
Shocked nurse: "38.7!"
Oblivious me: "Is that, like, bad?"
Short of driving me back home, she did everything within her San powers for me - gave me Leave of Absence forms for 2 days, gross cough mixture, antibiotics and strict instructions to get Disprin, Corenza C and multivits. "And rest up!"
In between shivers and sweats, I managed to get a decent amount of sleep, and finished Oryx and Crake. I also didn't eat for a day and a half, consuming so much medicine it seemed to fill me up. Being alone at these times is pretty bad, but in a strange way I treasured my little bit of 'pity oneself' time.
Today was step one of picking up the pieces. Crockery and cutlery washed, Prof Comm CVs marked, J2 print presentation attended, I think I've done pretty well for someone with a wolverine cough and a voice in her head screaming "I wanna go back to beeeeed!!!!"
By the by, comments have arrived. Use it, don't use it.
UPDATE... I have decided to forgo the She-Ra stance, and have made a doctor's appointment for 9.30 this am. The Wolverine cough has evolved into a miniature sonic boom - my diaphragm muscles are toasted and my neighbours are giving me filthy looks. It is now time to fling myself trustingly into the arms of a professional and whisper, "Cure me!"
This is a 
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