Thursday, November 08, 2007

1 Year, 72 Days - Posted 1 Year, 77 Days

Scratch all that bollocks about boys - I have more important things on my mind, like…ooh, the rapidly decreasing size of my main airway. I have tonsillitis. Big angry, grown up, tonsillitis. Gone are the heady days of childhood, when one would proudly set off to school, wrapped in woollen items that pointlessly flapped around purposefully set shoulders (as soon as you were out of your mother’s eyesight and earshot of course). Excited, exhilarated and desperate to show all your mates how gross the back of your infected throat looked; it was a beautiful fleshy version of Show and Tell. Instead I find myself under my duvet - way, way under; panicking. I am going to be found cold and grey and stiff-as-a-board - dead. I don’t even have a bloody cat to gnaw at my lifeless face flesh. What a failure.

So shot to ribbons my dear immune system seems to be these days, that I get every bug going; the latter being a pustulating oral mass of lymphoid tissue that fills up three-and-a-half-quarters of the back of my throat. Nice. And very attractive.

This latest burst of infectious hostility can undoubtedly be attributed to the THREE (yes, three) courses of antibiotics that I have consumed in the last month/s - all taken with the sole aim of kicking a cacophony of germs asses. This course is numero quattro. Four courses of wonder drugs that bulldoze any healthy bacteria you happen to have left in your weary system if you consume vast amounts of prescribed toxic waste every day. I thought the whole point of tonsils was to ward off infections? Pointless bits of swollen ulcerated, hanging matter.

A pissing newborn could shake this shit off faster than I. And I missed a night out.


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