Recovery Position

The last fornight has passed in a blurry haze, really. There’s been some food, some napping (I’ll miss my post-breakfast nap), and a lot of feebleness. Frankly, making it to the shops on my own is a struggle.

There’s been very little shaving (the whole idea of standing upright for long enough is just daft), so I’ve got to discover what I’d look like with a Really Big Beard (kinda old and mad).

There’s been a lot of… well, tiredness and other stuff. Thanks to my mum, my appetite’s back. Unfortunately, I’m now busily fighting off a whole host of other weird little attendant infections (a killer sore-throat from all that vomiting, lumps, bumps, and, oh my, chilblains). I guess, with my immune system down, there’s bugger all I can do except sit down, shiver, and steer clear of anyone with the sniffles.

Another weird side-effect is a lack of balance. Walking’s weird, standing still is weirder, and lordie knows when I’ll be able to ride my bike again.

I also get easily confused. Multi-tasking is beyond me, and quite often I’ll just go all quiet, or start mumbling confusedly like a pensioner. I’ve decided I like small shops with not too many people. The big ones just baffle me and I start staring at nappies, socks and Atomic Kitten VHSes.

However, I’m sure I’m better. There’s still nausea, but thankfully no vomiting, and I’m no longer agonisingly allergic to daylight (but I still look like I’ve given up sleeping and taken up boxing and cocaine). I guess I’ll have to get used to my slightly bloodshot, slightly startled panda expression.