Guest – Post Mr.Nonsense
Sorry, I have been absent from your tea break giggle while you try to have a break from work, but I caught the dreaded ‘Rona. Anyone who is dismissing it as a conspiracy or that it’s ‘just a cold’ needs to seriously sit with someone who has it and nurse them.
We all know from previous blogs that I am single as I am in love with an asshat who doesn’t love me back, so I have chosen the celibate route and then BAM – I’m so sick I can’t even make a cup of tea for myself. After about day four, when I am confined to the sofa, running a temperature of 104ºF, if I move too much, I cough so hard I wet myself, completely losing all bladder control.
Then the rash started, I am covered in it, all over my body. I now can’t get up the stairs as I do not have the energy, I can’t taste anything but not that I want to eat anything anyway. The GP puts me on some weird bulk up drinks that the dietician teams give to malnourished people, not being funny, I wanted to lose weight to be able to glide into my Kylie style gold hot pants for the summer but not like this. I am now bleeding, pretty much consistently, from my nose, and every time I cough, I bleed from my mouth. If I cough too much, I still wet myself, but I now lose bowel control and soil my boxers.
I infamously crawl into the garden for some Government advised fresh air, and at first, I am ok, then I take a big deep lungful of cold, crisp air and then it all goes wrong. I almost choke on the air, and the emergency response is to cough. And cough. And cough. And cough. I shat myself so badly it brims over my boxers and runs down my legs as I waddle back into the house, leaving my little brown trail of shame. When I finish tidying myself up and finally collapse on the sofa to either cry, try not to cough, curl up and hope to die, I begin to relax slightly. I am dozing slightly when I hear a ping from my mobile phone. I fish for it in my dressing gown pocket and as I pull it out, reach for my reading glasses to see what the message says, I soon begin to feel a little bit of dread in my stomach. The message is from my neighbour “saw you in the garden earlier, hope you are ok? I’m going to leave an eight-pack of toilet roll on your doorstep later”.
To everyone who has been afflicted by this horrible virus, to those who are recovering, to those who are fighting a battle with it, to our amazing NHS and all other heroes on the frontline, you are forever in my thoughts.
Love Mr. Nonsense