Internet, I am sick.
Ugh, I have a sinus headache that's been going on for two days now that drugs haven't even touched. My next resort is chugging back gallons and gallons of (spiked, saywa?) o.j. and hoping that the tropical soothing hands of vitamin C will finally kill all those little bastard germs that have their hammers out, pounding away at that spot right between and behind my eyes.
Oh, let's also not discuss the terrible cough and raspy voice I have. And it's not even the sexy sort of Demi Moore raspy voice that Ashton Kutcher hears calling after him to keep it in his pants on his way home from douche-bag rehab. It's the worst kind of raspy; the kind of voice where someone introduces themselves as Tammy, but all the listener can think is, "Are they sure this is a Tammy? Because it sounds like a tranny to me."
That is currently my voice.
And a good patient I do not make, because I am stubborn. Whenever I am sick I have this asinine urge to prove to myself just how not sick I am, which usually takes the form of gallant spurts of energy directed at some form of physical exercise I rarely tackle when I'm feeling 100%.
When I was diagnosed with mono as a tender teenager, I remember sitting in the chair at my doctor's office feeling flooded with hot embarrassment. The kissing disease? Ack! Then I straightened out my spine and tried to look quite innocent.
"How did that happen?"
"From swapping saliva."
OMFG kill me now.
So I slunk out of the office feeling like I had a scarlet 'M' branded to my adolescent forehead. But then I decided what does that doctor know? I'm fine! I will prove to everyone that I am a respectable girl who does not get stricken with such juvenile and mortifying ailments as the kissing disease. So I went on about fifty power walks in the span of forty-eight hours just to prove, "Look at me! I'm fine!" Then on the fifty-first power walk, it hurt to drink my water what with the two golf balls growing in my throat, and when I opened the front door to the house I barley managed to crawl into the t.v. room before I passed out cold for roughly a month.
(Oh yeah, I also contracted pink eye during that month. And when I went to the pharmacist to get my prescription drops, I was wearing a pink sweater. You know, just to compliment the oozy pinkness of my bleeding eyeballs. I could tell he was appalled to have to deal with such a walking infection. I was ashamed.)
So with my history of being an idiot, that obviously means I don't learn my lessons. Of course when one is ill, one should retire to the couch and sip herbal teas and chant for healing. But yesterday, I did not do this. I laced up my shoes and decided I was going to RUN up the Gurten. To clarify, I have never ever run up the Gurten before. But this sinus pounding has knocked all the sense right out of me, and in my bent brain I decided that running up a (seemingly) ninety degree incline would make me all better.
Yes, thank-you for noticing, I really am the biggest twit of all the twits.
So I had my backpack, my water, my camera, and off I went. I was about fifteen minutes into my run when I literally couldn't breath, what with all that spastic hacking and coughing set to the rhythmic drumming of my sinuses.
I was a symphony of illness!
Except in my head I was thinking: holy F-CK! I am going to die here, for what? FOR WHAT? Because I needed to prove I'm not sick. I am going to be the only person in the history of the obituaries who suffered from acute stupidity as the cause of death.
I chugged back some water, spluttered and coughed it back all down my shirt, and felt like crying because I was such a god damn mess who still had to walk home.
But then I heard them!
Heard who? You ask with breathless anticipation.
Oh. You respond, with abject disappointment.
A little bit further up the trail was a tiny herd of cattle doing some end-of-season grazing while the sun still shines. So I stood by the fence (hacking and coughing and being generally infectious) taking some pictures until I felt clear headed. And since my bovine friends haven't been represented that often on the blog this year, here they are!
Aren't they gorgeous? And such timely distractions, because with my mind otherwise occupied it only took about two minutes for me to stop hacking up a lung before I continued on my way.
Up the Gurten.
Because as proven, I'm a special little twit who doesn't learn my lesson.
Today I'm lying on the couch drinking herbal tea and chanting for healing. Though I am considering going for a brisk walk through the forest.
Do you think that will help?