At 7am this morning I really wasn’t looking forward to the idea of scraping myself out of bed. Having already missed a day of work, and not feeling quite so bad, some kind of internal autopilot kicked in - before I really knew what was happening, I was halfway down the stairs, heading for a shower.
While searching for socks and shoes it occurred to me that I am powered by the expectation of others.
The main force that ejected me from bed and propelled me through the house was the thought that others were being held up by my absence - that I was letting the side down.
It’s the same reason that any of us ever take a day off work with whichever virus is doing the rounds, and then find ourself washing up, loading the washing machine, and putting things away when in reality we should be resting.
Of course “being at work” doesn’t actually achieve much if you spend the greater part of the morning thinking it’s 2009. Yes, I really did that. It also doesn’t help when colleagues stop a conversation to remark that you’re starting to sound worse - backing slowly away from you as they do so.
Beechams impressive sounding “Ultra” man-flu remedy (not it’s real name), and a gallon of fizzy glucose drink helped me survive the day, and feel not to bad at all thank you very much by the late afternoon. I say it helped me survive, but I suspect the prospect of a second cup of the evil drug fuelled lemon drink would have even caused Dumbledore pause if he had been faced with it in the sixth Harry Potter book. Ah. Perhaps I’m on to something - maybe J K Rowling had Beechams Cold and Flu remedy in mind when she dreamed up Voldemort’s horcrux protections.
The cycle home confounded any ideas I had about feeling “better” - I looked like I had been through a rainstorm, when in reality we had the first dry day all week.
Don’t get me started about blowing my nose. Seriously. Just don’t go there.