When I was a child it was referred to as sickness and diarrhoea or gastroenteritis or “I told you not to eat all that chocolate.”
Last Friday around the stroke of midnight I fell onto the bottom of my bed after yet another dash to the bathroom and told my beloved I was dying. I’d had enough. I didn’t even worry about how they’d manage without me. I just wanted to sleep.
The next day I stayed in bed all day. And the next. It seems ridiculous to be so exhausted, but that is why it is also known as stomach flu.
Lachlan has come down with it three times in as many weeks. He’d get over it, stay off school for at least the required 48 hours after last symptoms, go back to school, some other child would chuck up all over the classroom and lo and behold, he’d be ill again the next day then Imogen would follow. Why didn’t they close the school?
It’s been a horrible few weeks. The kids got it, their parents got it and I thought I’d escaped, but no. Today I read that the winter vomiting virus as it is quaintly known is growing more virulent and this year has been a bad one for it with about a million confirmed cases which is probably the tip of a very large iceberg.
When the virus first struck I took to my bed with a pile of books, magazines and DVDs I’ve been meaning to watch for years and thought I could savour the hitherto unexplored delights of daytime telly.
Did I read? Did I hell. Did I watch telly? Not on your nelly. How about the radio? I listened to it for about half an hour, but that was all I could manage.
How pathetic to not even have the energy to listen to the radio.
Weekends are my writing time. I lost the whole lot. I didn’t even manage any research. But – and there is always a silver lining isn’t there? – I planned out how I am going to redo my garden.
Languishing in a kind of sensory deprivation over the weekend, I started to write a novel in my head. Story ideas came to me, characters appeared and whispered in my ear and I walked through a summer landscape of buzzing bees and flowing meadows with coarse grass scratching my legs. No energy to write any of it down, but you can’t have everything.
And when I finally started to eat again yesterday it seems my taste buds have reawakened. Things taste so much tastier. Water tastes so fresh and clear. Oh and talking about silver linings – I managed to lose 6 lbs over two days.
A major worry has been passing it on to the other four in this house. So far touch wood I'm the only one. I hope it stays that way.
I made it downstairs last night to watch some telly with the family. I caught up with the recording of Embarrassing Bodies and then watched the Battle of the Chancellors which I hadn’t planned to do. From blood and gore to suits and bore?
Actually I found the whole thing very interesting although I’ve read reports that say it was boring. I think sometimes elections are not so much about who you like, but which party you think will do you the least damage as an individual and to the country as a whole. Watching the debate hasn’t changed my mind about who I shall vote for, but it has strengthened my resolve about who I will not be voting for.
And what about The Bill? I couldn’t believe it when I heard it was being axed. I don’t know the full details as I’ve been out of the loop since last Thursday, but I imagine it is to make room for more programmes like I’m A Has Been Let Me Get My Face On Telly Before I Fade Into Total Obscurity While I Dance With Someone Who Wants To Be In A Musical On Ice Before We Clean Your House Come To Dinner And Sort Out Your Finances After Painting The Bathroom And Selling Off The Family Silver.
Pah. I suppose there should have been some sort of punctuation in that. But I can't be bothered.
If I sound cranky it's because I am. I've got to have a filling tomorrow.
This is probably my last foray into Blogland for a while. My granddaughter Roxanna is coming to stay over Easter Weekend and I intend to enjoy every minute.