Bit of a gap on the blogging front, dear people, due to the following:
After a week that would best be described by Lola as ‘Extremely Very Bloody Stressful, Charlie’, my ever-helpful immune system decided it was knackered too, and went off on a two-day holiday to Sicily with three half-naked young men and some massage oil.
Meanwhile the body it left behind had to stay here dealing with three children, an absent husband, a dishwasher that stubbornly refuses to empty itself and newspaper deadlines changing as fast as my moods, and fighting the invading bacteria and viruses on my own.
Thus it was that I woke up the following morning with tonsils the size of a Volkswagen Beatle. A red one. With engine trouble. And a broken exhaust pipe.
I had Very Important Meetings to go to in London, so I downed the Lemsip, and headed off. By the time I headed back home, meetings all done and a TV appearance on Channel 5’s The Vanessa Show in the can, the Volkwagen Beetle had turned into a car transporter, and I could hardly swallow or speak at all.
I went to my doctor, who first said ‘UGH, is that a car transporter in your throat??’ and then ‘Here, you need some antibiotics.’
So I took them.
24 hours later I started itching. I also had a rash. And numbness around my mouth and on my legs. And I couldn’t see properly. And I felt very dizzy.
All in all I felt not entirely well.
I called the doctor, who said I should definitely come in. Now.
So, the surgery being only 1 mile down the road and me being me, I popped my coat on and cycled there. It was a somewhat swervy ride, what with me being a tad off my rocker at this point, but I got there OK.
After a half-hour wait (not bad at ALL!) inhaling every bacterium known to Man, Woman and Snot-Nosed Child, I was seen by the on-call doctor…and told to stop taking the meds IMMEDIATELY.
“I don’t want to scare you,” she said, with a terrified look in her eye, “but the last patient who came here with exactly your symptoms ended up in A&E having CPR. You could go into anaphylaxis at any moment. How do you feel?”
Ummm, as if I’m about to shit my pants now, doctor, thank you for asking. How do YOU feel?
She also recommended I take Piriton to ease the allergic reaction.
When I got home I found an old bottle in the cupboard…..but it was 2 years out of date, so I decided to stick with the itching.
So the bad news is that, as well as being allergic to Penicillin, I am now also allergic to the whole O’Mycin family: erythromycin, clarythromycin, and Great Uncle George O’Mycin. This is a real pain in the buttocks, because being allergic to the two main anti-biotic families means my options are pretty limited now, if I get a nasty bacterial infection.
But the good news is that, after a somewhat anxious evening waiting for the drugs to work their way out of my system, and monitoring the itchiness of my skin and the numbness around my mouth every two minutes in case it had Got Worse, I seem to have escaped Scott free.
I’ve still been feeling like ten kinds of poo for the last two weeks, but I’m definitely on the mend now, at last, and normal blogging service shall now resume.
But the message, dear people, is this:
If you are working too hard, you will eventually get ill. This is silly, so try not to do it.
If you are ill, don’t go for a run. This is also silly, but I’ll probably still do it.
If you take medication and you start to itch/swell/feelgiddy call the doctor. Immediately. This is important, because if you don’t you could die, which is Very Bad.
If you have medicines in your bathroom, make sure they are not 2 years out of date.
Tomorrow I shall blog about today (if you see what I mean) which has been treeeeemendous so far: great interview on This Morning – I shall post a link, bien sur – exciting meeting with Mumsnet, fun meeting with some gorgeous PR girls would want me to do PR stuff for them, and a great lunch with an Old Old Old friend where we talked about shagging in lifts and suchlike. And now all I have to do is two more meetings, and then get drunk. Ohhhhh, it’s good to be better at last!