Thursday May 15, 2008
I’m weary down to the bone and out the other side. Weary in places I didn’t know could get weary. Looking after a Graham while he labours to get through a lousy, feverish, headachy, and pain-ridden summer cold is weary making work.
We done it, though. He’s sitting up now, and goes fifteen minutes without a cough more and more frequently.
It took another visit to the doctors’ to persuade them that he really was in trouble, resulting in a prescription for sodium dicolfenac and Co-Codamol (codeine and paracetamol), both in heavy doses. After the first dose he collapsed in a heap for about three hours and then got up to mooch about the house. He goes back to lay down for a while now and then but, mostly, he mooches. He’s on the mend, and we beat it.
I still don’t understand why doctors insist on patients with truly lousy running colds attending the surgery. It was crowded yesterday. Not so much today. Even so, despite strict use of a handkerchief, he’s bound to have passed the infection on.
Dolly the Mega-Cat has been in attendance on him throughout, following him through the house when he moves and dozing on the foot of the bed when he lays down.
I had a short spell yesterday, feeling feverish and throaty, and then it went back from whence it came. That’s good. It’s no fun when we’re both of us poorly.
So. Another minor domestic crisis overcome without casualties. Unless you count a couple of thousand dead paper tissues as casualties, that is.