Plane sick

I was having a huge amount of fun upstairs in The Globe making sound effects for witches with The Factory when I realised I just had to pull out and get a bus home because I was hacking my guts out every time I exerted myself. I’m still sick with this bloody cough. It’s gone full on consumptive now. I’ll give it a couple more days before I go and screw up antibiotics even further for myself by getting a course of the damn things, if I can get that past my doctor. I’m fed up of it though. I’d never normally consider going to the doctor but perhaps that’s why I should go.

I had a fun audition today at least, and didn’t cough when I was supposed to be talking. As soon as I left I realised how bloody unwell I am. I guess it’s my body telling me to stop running around like a lunatic and to take care of myself, eat healthily, sleep long. I think it might have been compounded by those goddamn ubiquitous plane trees shitting their spiky pollen into our eyes and lungs over the last few days. Great that they absorb so much pollution all year round. But we pay for that work at this time of year when they try to dissolve our faces and choke us.

I’m not going to the doctor tomorrow. I’m working in Beaconsfield all day instead, in a radio studio in front of a condenser mic with this cough. Whoever is on the cans is going to go on a magical sound journey through the inside of my lungs.

I’ll change my sheets when I get home. Who knows, perhaps I’ve discovered that I’m allergic to cat hair. I sincerely hope not. Although I have a friend that gets atrocious streaming eyes and nose whenever he has beer, but he still tanks more than I do on a big night. Anyway, clean sheets will be less dusty and nicer to sleep on. And Pickle will hate me but I’ll banish her this evening.

Good. The people on the bus behind me are talking about the plane trees as well. Pavna never normally has hayfever symptoms and she’s coughing terribly plus her eyes are streaming. Her husband speaks with the certainty of the speculative, but I’ll buy it.” After that heat the plane trees have been shedding so much pollen, and with the low pressure after the high pressure and this wind it’s pulling it all up from the ground.” Ok. Fine. So I’m not necessarily dying of tuberculosis yet. I’m living in an invisible pollen maelstrom of death. I get a little worried when I cough because 12 year old Al lost a year of school to double pneumonia and lung collapse and it was horrid. I spent far too much time coughing at night instead of sleeping. I never want to go back to that. I should probably see if I can get sleepy drink from somewhere that’s open at this time as I’ve got an early start tomorrow and I’m staring down the barrel of a long coughy night. Damn either the plane trees or the spectre of an underlying illness that I’m not acknowledging properly yet. Damn you to hell.


Author: albarclay

This blog is a work of creative writing. Do not mistake it for truth. All opinions are mine and not that of my numerous employers.

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