Now it’s over I can write about it. (Although admittedly I sometimes considered writing a post titled “Is this the end?” while it lasted.)
The fact is I was ill. Not just a common cold; in addition to coughing fits and a running nose there were, at the climax (towards mid-December), two T-shirt sweated through each night, spasms in my legs in the morning and in my hands in the evening, hypotension throughout the day, constipation, that quasi loss of hearing I don’t know the English for… I don’t think I’m a hypochondriac, but this time I really often felt like giving in. In the old country I certainly would have gone on a sick leave.
Only I couldn’t. I didn’t want to lose the money and risk being told I needn’t care to come back once the illness was over. Not as long as I could go on. With the help of coffee, fags, Yorkies, some old personal clichés like “I’ve been through worse things and I’m still here” and reminding myself through how greater hardships many other people must have gone I persevered; gradually I began improving. Today I feel more or less my good old self again (touch wood).
What caused it? A combination of several factors I suppose. Lack of sleep, early getting up, the weather, improper clothing, too big/sudden changes of temperature, chronic dehydration, maybe some virus passing by… Once ill, of course, my recovery wasn’t helped by the need to pretend as best I could “business as usual”: attending at work, doing my shoppings, checking up the news, replying emails…
I even somehow managed a ramble now and then, I even occasionally blogged; the fact remains that in retrospect I can only see the better part of this December through a haze not entirely dissimilar to the one following a booze-up.
Just as I was getting back to normal I got the sack – but by now I overcame even that. I’ve no idea what the future will bring; I’m ready, both physically and mentally, to face whatever it may have up its sleeve next.