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March 25, 2005
See the final paragraph for a quick summary AND MISS NOTHING
I’m on holidays! … or at least, that was the plan. The plan went: Take off the Friday after Paddy’s day, and the days before Easter, and you’ll get a pretty long holiday for much less annual leave!
It was a good plan, and I had a lovely day celebrating St. Patrick’s saintliness by staying late in bed with my girlfriend watching the parade on the telly. Wasn’t that phoenix float lovely? And that drama crowd who re-enacted the legend about the emperor’s new clothes, they were good. And all the Americans, they were loud and suitably shiny. Anyway, Thursday was super and relaxing, and so was Friday, and Saturday, and Sunday was particularly great, and then it was Monday. The girlfriend had to vanish off to work at that point, something I think it’s fair to say I was insufferably smug about, and I had a slight headache. But that was no bother and I went into town to meet my best friend from my college days who’d taken some time out of her glamorous life in Paris to say hello to us backward Irish folks.
We spent the day wandering around town having a (I’ve used a fair amount of superlatives so far, I know, please bear with me) fun-filled time of it, going for Japanese food and shopping and avoiding the rain where possible. It was fun-filled and my headache got worse, and worse, and worse, until by the time I got home it was quite literally as if my skull was about to pop open to allow the throbbing brains inside leap free, splatter wetly on my walls, then slide slowly to the floor. Which would have been a relief, it was that bad.
But the funny thing was, I didn’t notice this until I got home. Because as well as being excruciating, my headache was also making me stupid. You will not notice the pain, it whispered, as I am making you too stupid to notice it.
I noticed the pain by the evening, and noticed the stupidity shortly afterwards as I wondered how the hell had I missed being this fucking sore. I noticed it even more when all the weak-ass over-the-counter medications just pushed it around for a bit before sloping off home after doing precisely nothing, which I’m pretty sure is not what they mean when they say they’ll hit pain where it hurts. Tap pain on the shoulder and ask for the time, more like.
Tuesday morning, head much worse, off to the doctor I go. I’m not nearly so quick to go to the doctor when I’m working but when I’m on holidays it’s a completely different story, as while I resent paying doctors 45 euro to listen to me moan, I resent being sick on holidays even more.
The nice doctor, bless her and make her a saint and have parades in her honour, gave me absurdly strong tablets that were also incredibly cheap (my perfect date, bdum-tshhhh) and then talked me into accepting a sick leave cert so I wouldn’t lose my holidays. She had to talk me into it! Clearly the stupidity was strong. Of course, it’s probable that I didn’t like appearing wussy in front of a smart lady doctor. I think that counts as native stupidity though. But who cares! I’m not on holidays, I’m on sick leave!
While the tablets are terrifyingly effective, they don’t solve the stupidity problem. And they do leave me woozy and in constant need of affection. So, it comes down to a choice between being dizzy, stupid and prone to hugging people, or being not quite as stupid, with my face screwed into a constant wince of pain. I pick being Forrest Gump every time.
In summary, when I’m sore I like to whine about it. As I think I’ve just demonstrated. Lucky you, Mr. Internet.
Posted by Oliver at March 25, 2005 02:28 AM
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