Screw Convalescence When You Can Welcome a National Newspaper Photographer Into Your Home Instead
Yesterday, I was trying to concentrate on this new doll I'm making, but I couldn't get my mind to focus on making more than two or three consecutive stitches. I kept going into no-thought mode with a side of falling asleep. I thought it was a need-for-caffeine issue until I caught myself drooling on my own shirt. My caffeine needs, although serious and long-standing, are not so dire as to keep me from being able to swallow my own spit, so I knew something was up.
I am horrible at recognizing when I'm sick. I'm one of those people who will chastise myself for being unproductive when really I have pneumonia so bad that even my hearing is fading. True story.
This time, though, I decided to go to the mediclinic, which was a good idea, because my glands were gargantuan and my head ached from what felt like an excess of brain fluid. The doctor sent me for strep throat and mononucleosis tests at a nearby clinic, where a friendly phlebotomist tapped my arm for two vials of blood, and I picked up a prescription for antibiotics, because, although he could not see into my head through any of my external cavities due to excessive internal swelling, he figured that I've got a pretty good sinus infection going.
I might have strep throat! Or maybe the dread kissing disease! Watch out, Palinode!
So, I had this idea that I would spend the day languishing in bed, hand cast across my forehead, but I did not foresee what today would actually hold, which has turned out to be a telephone interview with a national newspaper, The Globe and Mail, and a date with one of their photographers in our apartment.
I don't know how well you know me, but this is crazy making. I am not good at the domestic arts thing. I dust, maybe, on an annual basis. I've never washed our windows. I organize things in piles on tables, chairs, the sofa, and on top of other piles.
And then there's that bit about me having my picture taken. Ever noticed how much my face is not on this website? The photographer is going to shoot me so that I'm still obscured, but, still, he's going to be LOOKING at me through a CAMERA.
And I'm going to handle all this just fine, I'm sure, because I will be doped up on antibiotics and pain medication.
What do you think of this mask?