Well…the first week of my forties can kiss my ass!
I am certain, there was a more mature sentence available but being ill on your birthday sucks, so ‘kiss my ass’ seems fair.
My 48 hour cold, lasted the week and ended up with me calling NHS 111. I had a panic attack as I was convinced, I had an acute case of death! I was seen at the hospital the following morning, after my vision was affected.
The GP confirmed, I had conjunctivitis in both eyes, severe sinusitis and fluid behind both eardrums. Grim.
Turns out that trying to be a hero and push through, was neither cute or clever. I looked like shit and felt even worse. Time to stop. Time to rest. Time to ask for some help.
My husband stepped up as normal. My mum came and sat with me for a few hours and made food and drinks. There were a few days, where I was barely functioning, in any real capacity.
Being ill is never pleasant but this time, I felt a little depressed. Was my inability to bounce back, as normal, age related? Or was I feeling my age, because I was ill in the first place?
Needless to say, I gave my funeral some thought…
Oh don’t start! Are you telling me that you have never thought of a single song, you would like played, as you glide through those curtains to the cloud bar in the sky? You have! Or at the very least; you know someone’s choice of song, because they have thought about it.
Still in my Queen phase so trying to resist the temptation, of ‘Another One Bites the Dust’. ‘Who Wants to Live Forever ‘ is just far too emotional. Going out to a bit of Queen though…now there’s a thought. ‘It’s So Hard to Say Goodbye to Yesterday’ by Boys ll Men, was always on my list. ‘I look to you’ or ‘You’ll Never Stand Alone’ by Whitney Houston. Both beautiful tracks. This was actually quite a challenge. I need to think about it though, as I dread to think, what my husband would suggest. Being dead is tragic but having an awful selection of funeral songs, that say nothing about you or for you, is truly sad. I’m hoping that I maintain some sense here and don’t immediately, march myself down to the local Funeral Directors, every time I feel pants.
I know you should live each day, like it’s your last etc but I’ve always found that thought to be depressing. Tomorrow is never guaranteed but I always need to feel like there is more to come. So I will see you in the morning. I’m going to get some more rest; get better and get a bloody grip!