(take that, past James!)
I very rarely get sick. I feel a bit groggy from time to time, and I’ve collected all manner of sporting strains and diabetes-induced days-off over the years, but I’ve hardly ever felt unwell to the extent where I’m unable to function. When I was about eight, I was sidelined for most of summer with a stomach bug, but that’s about it; until, as that title suggests, now.
A key part of being sick is knowing when one is sick; I have two surefire criteria to hit for me to diagnose myself as ‘sick’ – I feel cold and I need to take painkillers, as I’m normally far too manly for those things – and hit both of them this morning, a very worrying sign. I was also low, and kinda exhausted, but that general shitty feeling has spread into the rest of the day, to the point where I’m about to comfort-eat some chips then have a nap, like an eight-year-old.
Hopefully this’ll pass; I have far too many things going on for me to be out of action for even a few afternoons – and that’s even with cutting a few corners when it comes to the playing of my sports, rather than the management of them. It should do, as all illnesses have done, and all illnesses will, it’s just a bit of an inconveniently-timed one this time.