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Nasty viruses, wicked viruses... we hates them, Precious! Yess! We hates them!
Not so Sweet
Right now I'm a little bit high on pseudoephedrine. It comes in waves — bits of jitteriness overlaying a general wading-through-molasses feeling. After four days of sick leave I'm back at work this week, everyone looking at me dubiously as I attempt to explain that really I'm feeling much better hack, cough, wheeze, sniffle.
The doctor explained that I was having some type of reaction to the infection similar to asthma. So even though the fever and miasma is completely gone, and I'm otherwise normal, it's been a battle to breathe the past few days.
My nose feels quite clear right now, but the main problem is that my right ear has disappeared from my body's sensors in some type of subspace anomaly. An alien has been slowly replacing the inner workings of my right ear with pudding. A strange tightness hovers above and within it. All I can sense is a gentle, insistent pressure on the inside of my ear, as if my head were a party and someone was relaxedly but impatiently pressing the doorbell to get in and join the fun. Ding dong. But all I can hear is a soft, sussurating shhhhp pssssshh noise that pulsates in time with any convenient rythm nearby: my feet on the pavement, the train humming along the tracks, passing cars.
Before the pseudoephedrine, the pudding traveled subterraneously across my cheekbone, underneath my right eye, and to my nose, where it ungraciously turned from pudding into flourescent green toxic waste every time I used a tissue (I had rather hoped the pudding would be chocolate). I now need a large air-tight barrel and a deep place to bury it, so if you can hook me up, please let me know.
Every once in a while, something mysteriously shifts and I can kind of hear out of my right ear again, but this is gradually replaced by more alien pudding when I'm not paying attention.
In general, the decongestant stuff makes me feel excited, as if I'm about to go somewhere fun. I haven't figured out where that is yet, but I hope it doesn't involve pudding.
I used the free time I had last week that wasn't taken up with sleeping or coughing to finally finish My Russian Diary, my personal account of the three weeks I spent in St Petersburg during the summer I was sixteen. It sort of surprised me the things I remembered and the things that drew a complete blank. I'm glad I have those memories stored away in writing, because they'd otherwise be long gone now... More motivation to keep writing more, keep putting down the best and the littlest.
For now, though, I'll focus on breathing.