|Image from She Knows|
I'm one of those really pathetic people when it comes to being ill. I wish I wasn't. I wish I was more like my husband, who will get up and carry on with his day in spite of whatever virus is trying to pin him down and kick him in the head.
But no. Instead I fall apart at the first sign of the sniffles. In our house, man flu has become woman flu. And I have it, I have it bad. I'm having one of those days where I think I'd really rather be dead. Extreme, you may think, but that's easy for you to say when you're not the one with a top lip constantly covered in snot.
All colds have The Worst Day. That one day that you can't cope with getting out of bed and attempting to function like a human being. I thought I'd had The Worst Day on Thursday. I had spent the entire day sneezing like I'd been snorting pepper, and split my nose open from too much blowing and wiping. However, as all of the symptoms seemed to be limited to above the neck, I figured I had a simple head cold and that it would pass as suddenly as it had appeared.
I was wrong.
Everything hurts. I feel like I've been hit by a fleet of buses and that my head has been filled with barbed wire. The snot is inexplicable. I didn't even know it was possible for one nose to create so much mucus. Where is it all coming from? My nose is damaged beyond repair and my stomach has decided to join in just for shits and giggles (only, without the giggles).
In short, I feel dreadful. I'm at work, purely because we have the sort of staffing structure that means one person going sick means headaches for everyone, and I'm nice like that, but I'd really rather be in bed.
But I bet, any money, that if my husband had the exact same lurgy, he'd sneeze twice and that would be that. Oh, to be a stronger human being...