Bollocks?: Catching a nasty sick bug.

So one minute I’m sat with friends watching the Olympic opening ceremony whilst trying to find an athlete with a more perfect body than mine. Next I’m waking up in the middle of the night with a weird feeling in my guts. You know, the one that says “Hey arsehole! You better get to the toilet sharpish ‘cos I’m about to evacuate everything I’ve got!”. Ripped from your kingdom called Nod you are forced to drag your tired and confused carcass to the toilet where you will spend the next few minutes sounding like a constipated frog as you gag, heave and vomit the contents of your stomach. All the while your mind will flood with horrific images of horrific ailments and suddenly you get the feeling you’re in an opening scene from HOUSE.

You may have the worlds best Doctor but you’ll be the patient that dies and causes House to have a plot turning crisis of confidence.

Anyway after emptying by guts I rinsed my mouth out and plodded back to bed. Thankful that at least the worst was over. After all, I’d eaten a lot of crappy foods whilst watching Britain piss away what little money it has on a giant Voldemort and I assumed it was my bodies way of saying “Do that again and next time it’ll come out of both ends”. I assumed but I was so wrong…

“Basically you’re fucked”.

I spent the next week lying in bed with barely the strength to sit up. I didn’t eat a thing for four days which, only served to make me weak and light headed. I only actually vomited that first night but this did nothing to ease my melodramatic mind. Instead, I imagined it must be something more serious than a simple sick bug and decided I must be suffering from some rare disease that no doctor in the world could cure. Of course I’m better now (still a bit weak if truth be told) and look back on the past week with embarrassment at what a drama queen I was. You may be thinking I’m a hypochondriac but that couldn’t be further from the truth. When I’m healthy I never worry about my health at all.

But why am I telling you all this? Well my recent encounter with illness made me realise something…

I FUCKING HATE THIS STUPID IDEA THAT WHEN ILL WE OUGHT TO MAN UP AND DRAG OURSELVES INTO WORK OR SCHOOL WITH A STIFF UPPER LIP!

What is the fucking point of that!? People don’t choose to be ill. Yo wouldn’t sidle up to a sneezing man on a train and ask him to cough on you because you fancied a few days off work. Being ill makes you feel crap anyway so if you do take a day off work you’re still stuck with the problem of being ill. You’re not getting away with anything!

What really bugs me about people going into work ill is that they’re just going to give it to every other bastard unlucky enough to cross paths with them. I immediately lose all sympathy with cold/bug bearers when they say “I never take a day off work. You can always drag yourself in”. Oh well congrau-fucking-lations, here have medal. If you’re well enough to come to work and jeopardise your colleagues  health you’re well enough to not get my sympathy.

I think I just gave House a run for his money when it comes to bedside sympathy.

Good health every one.

 


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