Sick of it all

My apologies for the lack of posts over the last few days. I’ve been stuck in bed feeling sorry for myself, with a fuzzy head and a bunged up nose. Which has felt, in many ways very similar to not being off sick. I was still well enough to work and I didn’t even have the excuse of not being able to go in to avoid infecting others. Normally, when you’re ill you can skip work and stay at home to watch movies and feel sorry for yourself. Being quarantined has taken all of the joy out of that. All that you’re left with is the being unwell and a feeling that there are things you should be doing.

The other odd thing about being sick at the moment is the need to constantly suffix it with ‘but just normal sick’. It’s as though all normal diseases have become the new man-flu that are barely worth admitting you had. When I posted to work that I was going to have to skip some of the video conferences (to avoid inflicting them with my snottiness) it was like I’d been inducted to a secret society. I started getting messages from people saying ‘I’ve been sick too’ and ‘I wasn’t sure I could tell anyone’.

On the plus side, I didn’t have to go to A&E. It seems to have hit that time in the lockdown when everyone starts injuring themselves. I don’t know if we’re all getting cocky, but I now have a number of friends and colleagues encased in various forms of plaster or gauze wrap. Meetings are like a Boris Karloff convention. Everyone is either encased in bandages or sporting a line in stitches. The bolt through the neck has, thankfully, yet to make an appearance.

So, I’m thanking my lucky stars but I’ve been sick rather than injured. Still, I’m sure there’s plenty of time.

If I’m really good, I’m sure I’ll be able to manage both.