The usual

[radegund]

Once again, for the record, the familiar refrain: I aten't dead.

Let me rephrase that. I aten't entirely dead.

I am, however, not long recovered from a nasty bout of what's commonly known in these parts as the Winter Vomiting Bug. One hears about it on the news every spring, how it's rampaging through Irish hospitals yet again, causing not usually very harmful but pretty unpleasant and widespread mayhem. And since my inhabitant has made me, unusually, a frequenter of hospitals, I picked it up.

In fairness, I was only actually Winter Vomiting for a day. Couldn't keep anything down other than boiled water - not even filtered. Graduated to dry white toast and (ick) flat 7Up (ick), then slowly ventured into a more varied dietary landscape (you know, buttered toast, tea, eventually fruit and yoghurt) over the following days - all the time keeping a close ear on the roilings of my gut. It took days for the dizzy collapsings to abate. It's the sickest I've been in years, and I'm very glad it's over.

Missed four days of work, which will make the next couple of weeks somewhat panicky (work's convoluted in all sorts of ways at the moment), and although I was in on Friday I really wasn't in full working order. This week contains two important meetings, for which I am very badly prepared. So it's a pity, all things considered, that my system chose last night to send me a bout of vicious insomnia. I am not a perky Radzer today, my friends.

While I was recuperating I regressed to an earlier stage of my life, in which knitting while reading P.G. Wodehouse or listening to Radio 4 was the most appealing prospect on offer. I surprised myself by not going near the computer all week. So I'm way back at skip=nine-million-and-two on my Friends page, and I wouldn't be surprised if I didn't manage to catch up before next week.

For we are off to Connemara on Thursday for the annual Mad Easter Holiday. Last year's accommodation turned out to be offensively, depressingly suburban, so this year we're going Back to Basics. I mean to say, dash it all, no dishwashers. Expect me next week, windswept and smiling.

Comments

[glitzfrau.livejournal.com]

Oh, poor Radzer. Maybe my entirely fucked-up sleep patterns are infecting the house? So sorry if they are!

[radegund.livejournal.com]

I doubt it, but thanks for the sympathy! The doctor (at my routine check-up this morning, at which everything was deemed to be beetling along nicely, incidentally) says that insomnia is a common side-effect of pregnancy. Apparently it's one of the things that Thalidomide was diagnosed for. *shudder*

[niallm.livejournal.com]

Beetling. Such a PG word!

[stephencass.livejournal.com]

I aten't dead

That's good to read: I was a bit worried when the smoking ban came in without any celebratory postings! BTW, the Irish ban made the TV and print news here, especially in NYC, where it politically reinforced the city's smoking ban.

[radegund.livejournal.com]

Oh, I was so frustrated that I couldn't go and celebrate with a pub crawl on the 29th! A moderate and non-alcoholic pub-crawl, granted, but for me that's partly the point: I can now enjoy one of the primary social activities of the city in which I live despite being a non-smoker and (temporary) non-drinker. (Which I did, I might add, but not until Friday.)

[ainetl.livejournal.com]

bah i had influenza when i was pregnant as well and i do think it was the worst thing ever. glad to hear that you're feeling better anyway.

hope you have a good holiday in connemara and that your accommodations are an improvement from last year.

[radegund.livejournal.com]

It really wasn't fun! But now it's over, and I won't get that particular strain of it again.