Text it again, Sam

empty table

Friend One contacted Friend Two about our friendship group getting together. Second friend is out of town so forwarded the message to a third friend who contacted me. Much texting and we settled on dinner, Saturday night.

Lost a chunk of Friday night’s sleep fretting about being well enough to join friends for dinner Saturday night. Still coughing, especially if I talk too much, or even a sentence or two; deaf and generally miserable.

I haven’t seen Friend One for about two years so really wanted to see her, but I felt horrible (still), and then there is the guilt of spreading the horrible flu to others, and the indignity of coughing lungs up over the restaurant table etc.

In the end, I decided I really wasn’t up to a night out and sent all a text apologising.  Minutes later a reply from Friend One.

“I am really sorry that you are ill, but it is next weekend I am in town!”

Chinese whispers would have resulted in Friend Three and I sitting at the table waiting for her arrival! I am almost glad I was too ill to go now!

Not that we wouldn’t have partied… and will again next week,

it can only get better

low 1

I feel as though I have been living this ‘flu for weeks, instead of a week. Then maybe it is not an exaggeration for in that week I have gone from sleeping with the bedroom windows shut against the winter chill and thick winter pjs, to windows thrown open to the night air and cotton night wear. So much for winter, Queensland style!

On Sunday I was fairly sure I was on the recovery road, but that night took a reverse. Even now, I will be going back to the classroom with a head that feels stuffed full of fluid and ears so deaf that I wander in my own little world. It is such an isolating experience.

I think Mr FD is getting stir crazy too, still house bound except for followups with doctors. All being well I shall take him out to lunch on Saturday. Somewhere fresh and airy, and dare I say it – with other people.


age is all very relative

stop sign

I’ve never been fixated on age; my theory being that age doesn’t really matter for we will all die on the day we are going to die!

Possibly, my attitude is influenced by the fact that there is a bit of an age gap between my elder sister, brother and I – eight and six years respectively. No matter my age I will always be the youngest!

Recently, I have become a little more “aware” of the ageing process; not my age though, my eldest niece’s!

Favourite Eldest Niece was born in the middle of my teenage years. I can still remember sharing the news that I was an aunt with my high school friends! So, in some ways, we “grew up” together.

Niece turned 41 at the weekend and that makes me feel old!

It doesn’t really make sense, I know, but her entering middle age actually makes me feel older than the fact that all my children are now in their thirties; or that I am  grandmother!  Go figure.


And the figure is 41!


runny runt runt

The Saiga is a critically endangered antelope

Every day, I text or email “Good Morning” to my daughters and we continue a sporadic three way conversation through our days. On the first day of my flu symptoms it proceeded thus:

FD: I have ear ache and runt nose now too. Cough more frequent.

Daughter 2 :  Runt nose sounds terrible. Might be fatal?

FD: I think it is connected to being the youngest in the family.

Daughter 1 : Smaller noses are all the rage in Hollywood. People pay for theirs to be made smaller.

oh no, it’s not you, it’s me

bed flu

I was blaming Augie Dog for the funky smell. but this morning I had to admit I was probably the major source. Three days have passed since I had the strength, or inclination to take a shower. Neglect of personal hygiene has not suddenly become a life style choice – I am down with the flu. Minerva’s flu (that is a revenge plot for another time…)

4 in the morning and Mr FD, who has moved into a spare room to try avoiding adding the flu to his knee replacement issues, was rattling in the kitchen. He had decided to make himself tea. I was informed that there was a cup there for me, but he was unable to manage cups and crutches at the same time, so it necessitated a brief  vacancy of my bed. I will rise from a sick bed for a cup of tea every time.

Problem was the movement of walking and the pressure on my lungs from the few words I uttered to Mr FD sent me into a lung rattling, gut spewing coughing fit that hit without warning as I claimed my mug and so a sizeable amount of that life saving tea went across the kitchen bench.

Augie stayed bedside, where he has spent most of his time since I took to my bed Wednesday night. Yet, the fruity aroma followed me. Even in a flu haze I realised it was moi. The ricocheting fevers and chills had done their worst.   Ripe.

So after dosing on every medication I could lay my hands on, I did indeed shower, and change into fresh pjs. It didn’t make me physically feel any better, but at least no one will need a gas mask to enter the bedroom now. And if I do pass, the morgue attendants won’t assume that I went into decomposition days ago!