Tuesday I had the startings of a sore throat. Wednesday the sore throat invited a very, very mild grade fever to move in. By Saturday tickly cough had dropped by and decided to join the party. Sunday sneezing evolved into runny nose and yours truly playing the trumpet at 4am with le monster box of Kleenex.
Now I am no medical doctor, but I think I have a cold.
Invariably this time of year I come down with my annual hum-dinger of a cold. Normally it waits to appear until around Canadian Thanksgiving (first week of October) - but this year it's decided an early surprise visit is called for. Typically it lingers, goes to my chest and becomes bronchitis. I end up literally coughing and barking like a seal, ribs in agony and in my doctor's waiting room by the end of week 2 - where he prescribes his usual steroid inhalers and I am back to normal generally by week 3.
At the moment however it's just a cold, with all the wonderful symptoms that go along with it. I ache, I am tired, I am breathing through my mouth (which I hate), I have no sense of smell, no tastebuds left to speak of, my eyes are dry and my sinuses ache. Normally I would take to my bed (or the couch), consume endless cups of tea, watch bad cable-tv movies, and wallow for at least 24 hours...
...Unfortunately I am scheduled to work tonight. The start of a 7 day stint of midnight shift. If I call in sick I am sure there will be many raised eyebrows and snide comments. How I was "well enough" to do overtime on the weekend, but not well enough for my regular shift. Or how I have perhaps run myself down from working too many hours. That comment in itself raises my ire. Since when did doing a sedentary job bring on the cold virus? I have still managed to get plenty of sleep (7 hours/night) over the past two weeks and have been eating regularly. The only things that have suffered as a result of my working extra hours are my housework and my couch time watching tv. (I totally missed Canadian Idol this week). So I don't see how the "working myself sick" argument works. I would put more stock in my grandmother's warnings about leaving the house with my hair wet and catching my death, than I would with the overwork argument. And we all know Grandma was talking a load of tosh about the wet hair issue.
So now I am sitting having the internal debate. Do I call in sick, risk the gossip of the platoon and hopefully nip this baby in the bud before it becomes a full fledged case of bronchitis. Or do I drag my ass in, feeling like crap and work. Either way my monster sized box of Kleenex will be my closest friend over the next few days.