Siiiiiick

I recently got excruciatingly ill with pneumonia. Again. It ain't effing cool. Not only does one feel extremely sorry for oneself but one gets ridiculously bored. I mean there's only so much E! News channel, Keeping up with the Kardashians and Kendra re-runs one can watch before one goes insane.

Before I'd managed to see the doc for his official diagnosis I went to work. Big effing mistake. I was feeling so terrible (worse than when I get off the scale after a power workout to find I'm heavier than I was before the workout). Boss take ones look at me, by this stage barking like a dog without a tongue, and say: "Crisis, you look sound like shit. You even it look it too." That tends to lend itself to one feeling like a zillion bucks. Not.

I went home and slept from the moment I got home that afternoon to 7h00 the next morning, with a few Flusin-bomb/MedLemon shooter combinations at strategic times in tandem with my nebuliser. Could only get an afternoon appointment with the Doc so had to bear it out being bedridden on Spring Day. Just my effing luck.

Now I don't think I'm the only one that tends to feel sorry for myself (themselves?) when severely sick. I freaked out about having to get cortisone (I knew it was pneumonia from the get-go so knew it was only matter of time). So freaked out I balled my eyes out like a baby.

See, no-one really gets that cortisone and I aren't good chums. Not in the least. Cortisone makes me swell up like the Michelin man. Not conducive to any looking hot, or even feeling hot for that matter. But, as I'd preempted, it Doc said it was the Cortisone tabs or a stint in hospital. I chose the former. It was an easy choice.

The last time I'd been in hospital for pneumonia was in 2006, after a trip to Brazil. I was in baaaad shape. The nurses had a field day with IVs and putting needles in me. They ruptured all the veins in the usual spots medical 'professionals' tend place an IV in a patient's arm by the end of the frist 6 days in hosp they were ready to jab the j-loop in my foot for lack of a better spot for it. That was before I cried so much that the Ward manager called my pulmie and he told them they could just start me on oral meds. I look like a heroin addict with dark purple and yellow bruises in 7 places on my arms. I now have complete anxiety when it comes to drips and the next time I may have to have one. Go figure.

Point is that I'm now better, rocking it at gym and getting back to being myself again.

I felt like the über hermit. In fact, I still do. No jolling for me. But that will all change from next Saturday...Spring Broken Peeps. Sun City Spring Break for those of you that are slow with the Vernac.

I'm so excited I could freak! Its going to be so debacherous that I'm scared. And then straight from there, on the Sunday, we're driving straight to Cenutrion to watch SA take on NZ in the ICC Champions Trophy. Could like get any better???

Love, love.

H xoxo