Menagerie of Misery

I woke up on Friday morning with a cat on my chest. Well, there wasn’t actually a cat on my chest – since I don’t own a cat and since it is currently winter where I live my windows are either completely sealed shut or closed over so far as to prevent wayward felines from entering my apartment, having an actual cat on my chest would have been astounding and far more welcome than what I awoke to. Friday I awoke with the Phantom Feline sitting on my chest; pressing down heavily, this Fictitious Feline remained with me throughout the day making breathing almost impossible and heralding the fact that I was truly sick – I had lost the battle I had begun to wage on the previous Saturday.

I suppose I should have realized the day before the Cat showed up that I was actually getting sick. On Thursday morning I had woken up feeling like I had just received mouth to mouth resuscitation from a Dragon. My nose and throat felt like they were on fire as if burned by caustic chemicals. That was probably the first indication that my attempts to thwart sickness earlier in the week and failed, and failed miserably.

Saturday I woke feeling a bit better with the Cat having vacated the premises (maybe cats are scared off by a good beef satay soup?). But by Noon the Fire-Breathing Dragon had returned, full-force, and had brought along a couple of friends; Shakes and his best mate Shivers.

I struggled out in search of chicken soup and other culinary comfort. The rest of the day was a blur of chicken soup, cold combating chemicals and TV, interspersed with bouts of sleep before I crawled off for my official night’s sleep.

I woke up on Sunday feeling better, marginally; Shakes and his best mate had left and the Dragon seemed to have lost some of his fire. The day was sunny and the weather warm (well, warm for Feb. 1st in my part of the globe anyway) and I really wanted to go for a run. Opting first to run the few errands I had wanted to run on Saturday but was thwarted in the attempt by the disruptive and debilitating presence of S & S.

As I was out and about I quickly realized that running was not an option discovering that not only does the cool “fresh” outside air make the Dragon more fierce, it makes me cough uncontrollably rendering me incapable of running. And the other realization I came to, as I began to speak to the checkout clerk, is that along with the Dragon in my throat a Frog had taken up residence as well; for all that came out was a croaky raspy gurgly sound that remotely resembled “Thank you”.

Upon returning home and resting – walking up three flights of stairs had managed to completely exhaust me – I guess Shakes & Shivers had brought their mutual mate Lethargy, who I had missed meeting yesterday as S & S had been the more boisterous of the trio. I decided that if I couldn’t run, at least I could comfort myself by singing – oh wait, the Frog, right, I guess I need to add delirium to my list of symptoms or maybe it’s denial and pig-headedness.

It is funny how you don’t think about the things you do on a regular basis; things that might seem remarkable to some or wonderful to others; things that you just accept as normal – running marathons, cycling for 4 hours, singing in tune. I take for granted, sometimes, the things I am able to do; even something as simple as talking to a friend, I don’t value enough until, for one reason or another, I am not able to do so.

So I sit here on Monday evening, still stuck with the Dragon and the Frog, with Lethargy still hanging about too, not to mention the random coughing fits, missing yet another workout and taunting myself by listening to music I love to sing along to and I am reminded of the old adage – you don’t now what you’ve got until it’s gone.

I miss being able to work out, and sing – heck I miss being able to breathe without it hurting.

With any luck, the Menagerie of Misery will depart in a day or so and I will be able to get back to normal, and if I’m really lucky, I might even remember to be grateful that my normal is pretty darn good!