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Cold comfort - shadows of echoes of memories of songs
j4
j4
Cold comfort
I'm not blogging about the elections. I'm barely even watching the elections (though I'm listening to the BBC's live streaming video in the background). I make a lousy political commentator at the best of times, and this is not the best of times.

I've had a lousy cough and cold for several days, and last night it turned nasty; tonsils swelled up, swallowing became painful and difficult, speaking became nearly impossible. This morning it took the doctor about 2 seconds to diagnose tonsilitis. ("What's wrong?" "*croak*" "Let's have a look... oh dear. Are you allergic to penicillin? You've got tonsilitis." She'd printed out the prescription practically before I'd answered her, though the only answer I could manage anyway was a shake of the head.)

I hate coughs and colds. I hate their narrowing effect; the throat narrowing to a painful bottleneck, the nasal passages narrowing from a river of air to a stagnant trickle, the lungs tightening and wheezing. Time narrows, too: to the next dose of painkillers, or the next digit on the clock through the long sleepless hours of the night. But worst of all, the mind narrows; lights go out throughout all the buildings that make up the civilisation of the psyche, until it's left as a vast disused lot with just one single dogged but insignificant train of thought, marching like a line of ants across a pile of rubble. Every cough and sneeze jolts it off track; it struggles to get through the tangled undergrowth of pain and the sticky dust of congestion; it forever risks being washed down the cracks with the endless pourings-on of boiling water (mitigated by herbal teabags); and when it does get anywhere, the 'line' turns out to be a scurrying disconnected mass. It can only carry anything if all the parts work together; and under that sort of onslaught, they don't always manage it.

Here they come, though. Struggling through, carrying the last leaf-fragments of this post on their backs, before crawling back underground into the dark.

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Comments
hairyears From: hairyears Date: November 5th, 2008 12:25 am (UTC) (Link)
Isn't it wonderful that the antibiotics we're prescribed for tonsillitis - the sorest of sore throats that there can be without complete decapitation - are formulated into pills with corners.

Sore throat and swelling? Swallow this morningstar three times a day. Next!

I love the medical sense of humour. No, really.
emperor From: emperor Date: November 5th, 2008 07:54 am (UTC) (Link)
I hate sore throats. Get well soon!
tigerfort From: tigerfort Date: November 5th, 2008 09:51 am (UTC) (Link)
*hugs* and *tiger-snuggles* - the fur helps to keep your throat warm.
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