Part Deaux
I consider myself pretty strong. I am a huge proponent of working while ill, as long as the illness doesn’t interfere with productivity. Heck, even when it does, I will still work (while ensuring that I don’t pass that illness along, that is. Don’t think I’m some crazed workaholic and will actively engage in germ warfare uncaring of human collateral damage).
I’ve been continuing to push myself, despite the need to rest and simply stay put. I force myself out of bed every day, no matter how much I cough or how few hours it’s been since I’d closed my eyes. I keep trying to compel my T cells and macrophages to get a move on with the ridding my body of all these foreign invaders.
I think they’ve all been giving me the finger. Tiny, microscopic F-yous.
I believe that this is the one time that I need to actually do what I need to do for my health (I didn’t even stay in bed after I had my son. Hell, I even cleaned my hospital room’s bathroom the entire time I was there). I feel better, but I’m still not at 100%. I suppose I’ve reached a plateau, and won’t go any further if I don’t get adequate rest, no matter how much I despise it.
It’s chicken soup and hot toddies a go-go, I guess.
Happy reading!
Liz K
Classy With An E 