I've been off sick from work, as it happens. I had my induction (to Social Care and Health, stupidly) on the 24th and 25th July, and took the rest of the week off sick due to feeling physically sick on Tuesday morning because of the heat and deciding that working in a 40-degree office for three more days would probably kill me.
By Saturday, the glands in the right of my throad had become inflamed, and I was also feeling very uncomfortably bloated. This was unfortunate, because I was at a wedding on Saturday and the food was gorgeous, but because I was feeling unwell I couldn't enjoy it. Anyway, I saw an emergency doctor on Sunday (in the middle of bloody nowhere) who diagnosed possible glandular fever.
Tuesday (1st August), I managed to see my actual GP, had a blood test on the Wednesday, and was prescribed some penicillin to kill off whatever it was I had. I languished at home for a week - by Thursday I couldn't talk because it hurt so much, and swallowing anything that wasn't gloopy was agonising. The only thing I managed to eat more than four mouthfuls of was some soup, and a yoghurt. Even water hurt to swallow, and I was averaging about three painkillers per day (snapped in half, to make them smaller), just so I could bear to swallow the penicillin [having to retype from here because LJ lost it]. I spent the entire week sleeping a lot and watching student television.
By Sunday, it had cleared up, but I had another week off work just to be certain. I was moving furniture by Thursday. And obviously, I'm back at work today.
On Friday, my mum turned 50, so we went out for a meal at Jimmy Spices and a drink at Walkabout, which was nice. Would have been nicer had I not been suffering from a splitting headache. Also in the morning, I had another doctor's appointment to see what the results of the blood test were - it wasn't glandular fever, but one of many possible viral infections. Nice. I have another blood test in three weeks to see if it's cleared up.
On Saturday we met up with herringprincess and wrysprygoat, as they've moved to Kings Heath - it's where all the cool kids are living - and ended the evening by renting some DVDs. Hostel was quite rubbish compared to how it was hyped, but still worth watching for the gory special effects, if you're into that sort of thing.
So, that's where I've been.
A few minutes ago this entry was whinging about the fact that I couldn't log in to my computer and they couldn't fix it on the helpdesk with a single phonecall, but they just rang and sorted it out, so now I can actually make a start on my three-week backlog. JOY. Sandra's meant to be on leave but is coming in this afternoon
This morning was the best morning ever. No, really, I love to go into the kitchen first thing in the morning to find a big fucking maggot wriggling on the floor. I've only found about one more since then. Paul and I double-bagged the binbags on the floor - we missed the collection on Friday last week (Friday's a STUPID collection day, anyway) - but the nasty little things seem to be heading towards a plastic container full of cherry pips, which must've fallen out of the bin about three weeks ago. So my mission tonight is to buy a new, better bin (which we can fit more than three things into and which isn't broken), and a dustpan and brush. Might also have to borrow Lisa's hoover to get rid of the bits of debris on the floor.
*shudders* Yeah, lovely greeting this morning.
Anyway, I have my return to work interview this afternoon (arbitrary pointlessness) and should really get some food inside me. The plus side of my illness is that I've lost weight from the lack of eating and can get back into my three-quarter length trousers again - right in time for the winter, apparently.