My cough hasn't gone away. I don't feel sick per se... not like I did last week, but the cough's been lingering in an
annoying sort of way. I also think I pulled a muscle in my neck from hacking too hard.
I've been resisting going to see a doctor. Just one of those things. I don't mind doctors, but I don't have one of my
own. I've gone to the walk-in clinic near UW once or twice, each time with new (and kind of creepy) people working
there. This morning when I noticed I'd coughed up blood, though, I figured it was probably time to give in and stop by
for a visit. Particularly after my mom kept trying to tell me I had pneumonia.
After sitting in the waiting room for about an hour (and it was a good thing I got there early), and then discussing the
colour of plegm for about five minutes, I got my diagnosis: bronchitis. Only a small chance it'd be pneumonia. Don't
tell my mom. I have the paperwork ready to have chest X-rays done, but since the results wouldn't be back 'til Tuesday
anyway, I might just as well wait until Monday to do that, if it's still an issue. I was prescribed the antibiotic that
would be prescribed for either bronchitis or pneumonia, so that base is covered regardless.
I ran into an old friend from residence on the way back to work (I still haven't taken a day off. I would have last
week, but work has air conditioning and home doesn't). He's just finishing up his masters in accounting. Once he's done,
though, he doesn't want to see another balance sheet again. I can't blame him, really. He's thinking of looking for work
as a bartender.
I have this horrible cough that appeared out of nowhere early this week. Stupid thing kept me up most of the night.
Right now I have only just enough grasp on consciousness to write this little entry. Not that I have anything to say,
mind you. (Except that I'm sick, of course, which is basically just fishing for sympathy...) I just figure that this is
an easy, relatively brainless way to keep awake and keep typing noises coming from my cubicle. Always useful, that...
I really shouldn't write these things when I'm feeling rotten. Skimming through the archive, I often end up sounding
like such a depressingly forlorn person. I'd prefer a more positive public image, myself. But then, the positive stuff
rarely seems worth writing about. I should probably make more of an effort.
Let's see... positive... positive... uh... I should be getting lots of money soon. That's good. ...My computer is making
this weird twinkly noise at irregular intervals, which would normally make me happy, except that I can't figure out
what's doing it. Probably something Microsoft-related... Maybe I should just race my vibrating hamster for a bit. Whee!
Go Hamster!
Did I mention I didn't get very much sleep last night? Okay, good. Ack. Stupid cough. I think I'll just curl up in a
corner and die quietly. Good night.
I had a dream last night. Mr. T was in it. I really don't want to think too hard about why Mr. T would be invading my
subconscious. But it was a cool dream—the kind I used to have when I was a kid, wherein I'd save the world or whatever.
Of course, in this dream, Mr. T was doing most of the actual leg work. I got in a few cool action scenes, though.
Again, I'm not going to analyze this. I've always liked that I portray myself as the Hero in my dreams. It makes me
think there may yet be hope for me. If there's more to it than that, I don't want to hear about it. So there.
Then I woke up with a really terrible headache. I downed all the pain-killers and decongestants I could and decided to
get dressed and walk it off outside. Pressure changes, I think. Maybe anxiety, too. I dunno. I considered calling in
sick this morning, but I was pretty good when I woke up. Waking up at 3:30 to walk around the neighbourhood for a
half-hour does nothing in my attempts to pay down my sleep debt, however. I could use a nap right about now.
Maybe Mr. T will come back for an epilogue...
My sister's coming into town tomorrow to visit a friend. I've offered to take her out for lunch or something. This
should be interesting.