Well let's see now... I'd started getting noticeable pain on Saturday 22nd May, but ignored it. Didn't sleep too well though. Did a bit of work. Felt tired and kept myself to myself. Went to bed late. Slept badly. Up early in some discomfort.
But I had a driving test to attend to. Pretty much the apotheosis of a driving instructors working existance. Something you only fail to turn up for in the gravest of emergencies.
My pupil passed. Plaudits all round. Lots of nice things to say, and I have a blog post saved as a draft about it.
Got home. Took paracetemol. Which didn't work.
At some point during that evening I found that I couldn't stop shaking. As soon as I went downstairs Bren noticed something was wrong. She wondered if I had been smoking weed, which sometimes makes me go shaky.
In fact I had quite a big infection, and my body was heating up to try to kill the bugs that were harming it. Eventually I 'fessed up to being in pain, and went to bed with clucks of sympathy in my ears. No sleep. Just sweat. Eventually found a combination of ibuprofen, paracetemol and codeine that allowed me to get a few hours of unconsciousness. Sweat snore sneeze snooze snarl. sweat. Sweat. Sweat.
When I awoke. Whenever I awoke, my side of the bed was soaking wet.
Next day we went to see a dentist, and he pulled out the offending molar.
I didn't eat for the rest of the day. I had just one cigarette at some point between drop in centre and dentist, and I still struggled to get enough sleep that night.
So, come the next day I awoke still feeling like shit, and far earlier than I needed to. And off I went to my first lesson. Only needed to drive about half a mile. By the timeI got there it was prety much obvious to m e that I was struggling to drive, never mind teach someone else how to do it. My pupil had just passed his theory test with flying colours, partly due to the help I'd given him, and was happy to cancel. My only other pupil for that day was also happy to rearrange via text message, so I went home. And lay on the sofa with the curtains shut.
Bren was obviously worried about me. And had been for the previous 48 hours. She thought that I might still have an infection, and went to see the dentist to ask for antibiotics. He passed her on to the doctor's surgery. She gave my symptoms to the receptionist - photosensitive, lethargic, achey, high temperature, and the receptionist sends out an emergency ambulance, because what she's just described could be meningitis.
So. upon my couch, I wake up or drowse or sleep or something, and at some point Bren walks in and tells me an ambulance is on it's way.
Poor thing. Her last hubby died quite quickly of some kind of leukemia. It's hard to appreciate that snese of possible sense of history repeating.
My love for, and respect for her knows no bounds, and I hope I can continue to do right by her.
I did look rather pale apparently, but I responded appropriately to their questions, my eyeballs reacted appropriately and equally to their light beams. I didn't shrink, eyes streaming, at the light's approach. My temperature was high, but not abnormally high. My BPM was normal. My My RPM was 46, which was just a liitle high. And my blood sugar level (it's just a scratch) was normal for someone that had eaten bugger-all for days.
So no meningitis, but an appointment later that afternoon to see the doctor, who did a lot of the same tests. Includig the one with the sphygmomanometer.
That was yesterday.
Today I've still been a bit washed out Quite emotional. Found myself wanting to cry watching this...
But perfectly capable of getting some work done.
And that's me, up to date. Now I'm going for a fag, and then off to bed. Night night.