Whoops are Not Always Fun

I’ve been struggling this week with a nasty cold I just cannot shake. Finally after another sleepless night I went off to the doctor. The verdict? Whooping Cough. I have been vaccinated – apparently the immunity commonly runs out in your early 30’s, and there have been many cases this year due to more and more people not vaccinating children. So while I have been doing whooping of sorts, it hasn’t been the fun type.

A friend from work called me today to ask me “Whooping Cough? Why can’t you just get a cold, like NORMAL people!”

We all know the answer – because I am not normal.

Only yesterday the big boss at work said to me “Are you sick AGAIN!” I felt like I was in trouble for having a bad cough. It was a lousy thing to make me feel – after all, I am clearly not putting it on. I also think that if he hadn’t given me such a hard time when I caught the flu back in in May I might have taken enough time off to actually recover properly – I feel like I have been run down ever since, catching every single thing that floats by. So really, it is his fault.

I am infectious till Monday and how SAD – I cannot go to the office the rest of the week. Boo hoo.

N.B. I am actually not feeling too much like death so no need to panic – only when I get the coughing fits, which can have breaks of up to a couple of hours between them (but which can last a few hours too).

You Should See the Other Guy

Since Friday many people have asked me what I have done to my hand. My instant response is “You should see the other guy!”, followed by a sorry shake of the head and perhaps a little faux boxing action. Of course, reality is far different, but the true story as to why I am sporting a bandaged wrist is far more boring – I was on my way to work on Friday when a charming man in a business suit shoved me in his panic to get off the train, and I went flying. No, he did not stop to see if I was ok. Pig.

On my arrival at work, my simple request for an ice pack sent the first aid officer absolutely mental. I had some trouble understanding why I would need to be carried on a stretcher for a sore arm. Turns out they haven’t had a first aid incident since the new first aid room opened and they all got trained so it was an exciting day. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if they sneaked in a few photos to put in the weekend papers. And so off to the doctor I was sent, with requests for x rays and reports, for this was a workers comp claim, having happened on the way to work.

If you ever hurt yourself, please let it be at work! I have never had such fuss made of me. The cynical amongst you would say that’s because it’s like free money for the medical practice, the insurance company probably pays more than medicare. I found it hard to believe that I had to beg the doctor to be allowed to come back to work today, Tuesday, several days after the incident, and now several work days behind! So I am back on light duties only. I didn’t bother explaining to the doctor that light duties would cover any day.

Luckily I’m Not a Horse

Schlepping my laptop and assorted paperwork between two offices has resulted in a rather painful shoulder of late, which seems to be slowly migrating to other areas of my back and neck. Honestly, you’d have taken me down the back paddock and shot me long ago if I were of the equine variety.

Yesterday it developed into somewhat of a competition between The Boyfriend and myself, each of us insisting that there was no way the other’s back could possibly ache as much as our own. Of course, we were each angling for a back massage. Or at least I was, and can only assume he was too with the way events unfolded.

When we crawled our old and weary bodies into bed, the haggling commenced. I suggested a best out of 3 match of paper scissors rock to determine who got first massage. I won! So I laid down to get my massage, assuring The Boyfriend I would happily return the favour when he was done. Gee it felt nice and relaxing.

Then I woke up this morning, feeling fresh and fantastic, muscles the least sore they had been in days, and wondering how long he’d massaged my back before realising I had fallen fast asleep.

Where in the World is 12?

I’ve just had a week off and am struggling to get back into the swing of things.

Don’t feel too jealous – I’ve been in bed with what could have been the hog-wog /swine flu or just the regular flu, who knows. We don’t test for it if you’re healthy otherwise, apparently!

I cured myself by eating plenty of bacon sandwiches and am almost back to my old self again, so no doubt will be causing havoc again soon.

Pig Out

I think I must have swine flu. Why? Because I ate like an absolute pig yesterday. Perhaps it’s related less to swine flu though and more to having stayed out too late the night before drinking beer and watching the State of Origin match at The Local.

I have a habit of eating my way out of a hangover, but I did outdo myself yesterday. I had the following:

• Junior Whopper burger with cheese
• Toast with cheese spread
• Home made steak and mushroom pie
• 1 Jam filled Krispy Kreme doughnut
• 2 Original Glazed Krispy Kreme doughnuts. One of which I bought for another girl at work but found I ate it before I had a chance to give it to her.
• Cheese and crackers
• Garlic bread
• Large-ish bowl of pasta

Yes, I know you all think I am a pig now, but there was no way I was leaving a post up about my poor underwear choices over the long weekend, was there!

I’m ‘armless

Yesterday I went to a specialist I had been referred to see about a lump on my arm, the size of a small pea, that had been bothering me for a few months.

I was expecting just an initial consult. I certainly wasn’t expecting to hear “That’s a tumour and we’d best take it out right now if you have time.” Even if they did follow that sentence up with “Don’t worry, it’s probably benign.”

I’m not sure if specialists have a dry sense of humour or none at all.

I am such a trouper that even having had half my arm cut off (well a small bit of it anyway) I was at work by 11. However today it hurts more than yesterday, and if anyone’s ever tried washing their hair without getting one arm wet they would know it is very difficult, involves a willing partner to pour water over your head for you, and is best not done when the morning is a chilly 5C (41F) and the bath is not terribly full, leading to violent shivering and a rather rushed affair.

I have no idea why it looks like my arm and desk glows in the dark, because it actually does not – I suspect my crackberry’s camera function is not quite cutting it – however this is the new look I am sporting.

Any Other Time I Would Have Been Angry

Yesterday I was on my way to work. I was feeling pretty tired and second hand after a late night cheering up a friend with a broken heart. I must have looked a sight. Of course, there was no seat available on the train – there never is when you really need it!

It was pretty chilly and I was wearing a read coat that only buttons up high and flares out to mid thigh level. A bit like this one, but possibly less fitted around the waist.

A young man who was sitting near me caught my eye and very politely said “Excuse me, would you like my seat?” Halleluiah! I gratefully accepted, on account of the fact that I felt a million years old, had not enough hours of sleep behind me and a raging hangover. As I thanked him and sat down, he frowned at all the men nearby and murmered something along the lines of how he hated it when men did not stand for pregnant ladies.

I was torn for a split second while it computed in my brain. Flared coat that is not fitted around the belly. Tired looking woman. He thought I was pregnant! It took only a moment to decide between telling him he was mistaken and giving his seat back or leaving it as it was. I smiled at him really sweetly as I thanked him and rubbed my belly in the way I have seen pregnant women do. I like to think I made his day for his thoughtfulness – he would have bragged that all over the office. He sure made mine, and I got an extra 25 minutes of shut eye on the trip that was desparately needed. And I paid back karma wise by making myself almost miss my train home that afternoon by stopping to let work security know someone had left their headlights on in their car which was parked in the work carpark. Oh, and it made a screamingly funny story to tell later at The Local.

Fire

The heat’s been on this summer, with heatwaves across most of the country. Over the weekend, there were devastating bushfires in Victoria. So far 108 people have been confirmed dead with the toll rising, and over 750 homes lost. Yesterday I wept in the pub as the news showed a story about a man who burned to death in his home. Confined to a wheelchair, the man’s next door neighbours had knocked on the door as they escaped, and figured he must have already been evacuated when he didn’t answer. He hadn’t, and he died there in his chair. And in the north of Queensland, there are floods. Something’s gotta give, and soon.

Please send positive thoughts / karma / prayers – whatever your deal is – for all the Aussie firefighters this week. They need all the help they can get.

One Of These Things is Not Like the Other

I was just heading down the work corridor, bleary eyed, towards the fridge to grab some breakfast. I overheard a snippet of conversation – “I had the best work out on Saturday night!” I shook my head in bewilderment,. I just don’t get how a gym session could be good. It certainly sounds dreadful – hot, sweaty, uncomfortable, unpleasant. Then it occurred to me that maybe it wasn’t them that was just plain weird for spouting forth with such gusto about exercise, but maybe I am just plain lazy and it’s me that’s not like the rest. Although I seem to have collected a bunch of friends who are also less than athletically gifted.

Recently myself and 3 others made plans to try to find some form of enjoyable exercise, so we could lose a bit of the flab around the middle. This is why for the past 4 weeks, we’ve hired a tennis court for an hour every Tuesday night. Since we started we’ve had the following injuries within the team of 4:

• a pulled hamstring
• a fractured foot
• cartlidge damage on the knee that may need an operation to repair
• a cold or two
• a heavy case of hives that got worse when playing

Last week when we mentioned to the caretaker we might try to up our timeslot to 2 hours soon, he looked at us hesitantly before asking “Er… are you sure? You guys seem to be injuring yourselves more than you’re benefiting from this!” Seems to me like this exercise lark is bad for you. I still don’t get it. As long as it keeps being somewhat fun and I don’t kill myself I guess we’ll keep plodding on. Just don’t expect to see me in the gym on the machine next to you any time soon.

Hives, Begone!

So, it’s now been a week with hives. I’m over them now, thanks, they can go now! Apart from googling the ultra high dose of Prednisone I’ve been taking daily and being horrified to read of the possible side effects, it’s just damn itchy. And leads to unfortunate consequences. Such as yetserday, when I wore a long floaty skirt to work, thinking it would be more comfortable to have a skirt on for me and more comfortable for everyone else’s eyes if it was long to cover the lumpy hivey goodness that my entire body has become, from toes to neck. Never once did I think to lift the long skirt as I walked up the stairs into work, which is why I stepped on the edge of the hem and promptly pulled my skirt down. Luckily for me, I was wearing really nice undies yesterday or that could have been totally embarrassing, eh!

In an effort to distract you from some of the horrifying mental images here’s a few more snaps from my photography course:

Zooming in on a long exposure while on a tripod produced some cool effects.

Sometimes a shot looks cool from a different angle.

Although lots of the tricks we were taught applied more to people, I preferred to find alternate things to focus on.

Sometimes a shot would have been nice – but for the hordes of people in the city! It was really hard to take a photo wothout people getting in the way.

Back to the doctor’s very shortly for me, which does have the added bonus of a good excuse to leave work early – you don’t want me scaring the customers, do you boss!