Six days to go till I'm 30
ILL
My throat feels like I've swallowed bark and then gargled with grit. My eyes feel as though they've been lanced my needles while being simultaneously clamped in a vice. And my chest is filling up with phlegm so fast I may need to be drained. It's bad enough that the weather in London is shit; now I have to feel crap as well?
It's so rare for me to be ill. In fact, now I come to think about it the last time I felt feverish and, er, swollen was when I popped into London last April. That week I hardly slept, my glands ballooned to the size of golfballs and I had my dream job snatched away from me when I was told that they wouldn't renew my contract as a foreign correspondent.
Of course, the shitness I felt back then was heaven compared with October 2003 when I was struck down by gastroentiritis. What an arse of an illness that turned out to be! If you've never had the pleasure of this ailment, imagine being impregnated by the Alien spawn from the eponymous film. Only rather than break out of your stomach, it just probes your innards so painfully that you think you're going to die. In the end, I managed to crawl to a hospital-bound taxi, got hooked up to a drip for several hours and told to eat nothing but mashed potatoes, cheese and apple-flavoured Gatorade till I felt better.
Still, it could be worse. Terminator 2 is on the tele and it's my birthday in just six days!
ILL
My throat feels like I've swallowed bark and then gargled with grit. My eyes feel as though they've been lanced my needles while being simultaneously clamped in a vice. And my chest is filling up with phlegm so fast I may need to be drained. It's bad enough that the weather in London is shit; now I have to feel crap as well?
It's so rare for me to be ill. In fact, now I come to think about it the last time I felt feverish and, er, swollen was when I popped into London last April. That week I hardly slept, my glands ballooned to the size of golfballs and I had my dream job snatched away from me when I was told that they wouldn't renew my contract as a foreign correspondent.
Of course, the shitness I felt back then was heaven compared with October 2003 when I was struck down by gastroentiritis. What an arse of an illness that turned out to be! If you've never had the pleasure of this ailment, imagine being impregnated by the Alien spawn from the eponymous film. Only rather than break out of your stomach, it just probes your innards so painfully that you think you're going to die. In the end, I managed to crawl to a hospital-bound taxi, got hooked up to a drip for several hours and told to eat nothing but mashed potatoes, cheese and apple-flavoured Gatorade till I felt better.
Still, it could be worse. Terminator 2 is on the tele and it's my birthday in just six days!
posted by David Cohen at 9:34 pm
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