I could feel it last night. Someone was stuffing cotton into my lungs. It hurt. In the darkness of the cool night the cough began. I couldn't sleep. It was going to be a long night.
Yep, that's what's happened. Something has finally caught me. Some sort of vile evil infection.
What may be worse about this whole scenario is the 'compassion' of the Dementor.
There is none.
My Tale:
It was evident early in the evening that I was coming down with something. Truly it felt like someone was pushing cotton balls into my lungs. I knew..without a doubt, I knew.
"oh shit..my time has finally come round" ..I have not had any type of 'major' sickness in many moons. I roll that way you know. Yeah, I'm fat, yeah I smoke, yea I eat what I want, but all in all, I'm decently healthy or at least have a high level of antibodies against this type of thing.
Why else would I have not caught anything in years? Last night, the vile thing caught me.
I could not sleep. It hurt too bad and I'd cough every once in a while. Croopy cough. A deep down 'oh shit cough' . Out of the bed I came and stumbled back to the couch. Shit warmed over? Yeah, that was me.
So I lay there watching this show and that show, covered in a blanket.
(our temps were in the 40's last night and I STILL had all the windows open..love me some cold air...sick or not!)
Ha! I can relay that this was one time I was appreciative of the hot flashing power surges.
Figured I'd sweat it out. (no such luck).
Come 3am the Dementor's alarm started blaring. I had not been to sleep yet.
He strolls out 1/2 hour later, dressed and ready for work. Does he ask me how I am? Oh hell no. Does he even bother to check to see if I'm alive or dead? Oh hell no. He goes to make him some breakfast.
(I guess his stomach was more important).
While he's munching on his peanut butter toast, he saunters into the living room where I lay ..the great 'him' speaks.
"you should have taken NyQuil"
He doesn't check on me, he doesn't lean down to see if I have a fever, he doesn't ask "how are you?" he just berates because I did not do what 'he' does and load myself up with drugs.
He continues his berating .."When you are as old as we are, you should know better, you should have taken something"
<blink blink>
My reply: Well thanks for the compassion
He comes back with .."Oh hell no, no compassion, you should have known better"
My reply: I'll remember that when you are hurting again..there will be no compassion from me.
His reply: You don't give me compassion anyway.
And off he goes to work.
(sigh)
I do give him compassion. To a degree. But I have to tell you, when someone complains EVERY DAY..and I do mean EVERY day...compassion starts to wear thin. Try 3 years of it. I refuse to coddle and act like a mother to my husband..treating him like he's two is just not my bag!
Either way, I guess the 'good days' are over as I could tell by his tone this morning that it was the beginning of a Dementor hell cycle. I think I got about 5-7 days worth of 'decency' from him this time.
(Maybe this time, since I'm sick I can just sleep through the cycle. Ya think?)
The Crone of Creeping Crude
Sage
No comments:
Post a Comment