I felt a twinge on Friday. By Saturday, I kinda knew what was coming. I ignored it on Sunday and Monday I knew I was in trouble. Tuesday, it was off to the Doctor.

Acute Bronchitis. Believe me, there’s nothing cute about it.

And I am a lousy patient.

When I’m not feeling well, I pretty much just want to be left alone to wallow in my misery. If I need something, I’ll let ya know. Otherwise, just leave me alone. Victor, on the other hand, is the exact opposite. He likes that solicitous attention. Whenever one of us is sick, we act like what we want – not what the other wants – so I ignore him and he’s all over me.

We’re getting better, though… Victor actually said “Okay. I’ll only ask this once. Do you want any soup or anything?” I said no and gave him the Really. Don’t ask again look. It’s rather comical because after all these years he still hovers and I still ignore.

After going to bed early Monday evening and spending all day Tuesday in bed, I surprised him by saying I was off to the Urgent Care place at 4:30pm. I get my annual physical, but I don’t spend a lot of time at Dr’s or take a ton of medications. To actually get up and go to a Dr means I don’t feel good.

The good news is the lungs are clear and while my throat is raw and hurts like hell, there’s no strep. The full throat labs take 72 hours, but they’re not expecting anything…

I have an inhaler and a cough suppressant that seem to be doing a bit of good, but I still feel like I’ve been hit with a Mack Truck – and I have no appetite! I wonder how long I would need to be sick in order to lose 50 pounds?!?

I did have a bowl of homemade chicken soup when I got home, last night, and I had a fried egg on toast this morning – more because I know I actually need to eat in order to get well, than because I was hungry.

And it’s now 9:30am. I’m crawling back into bed with a book…