I had forgotten how horrible this feels. This post-poisoining place of grimness.
I could list the seemingly-endless side effects: the sore throat; the angry rash covering my chest and neck; the aching limbs, the fatigue. But it doesn’t do it justice.
My brain is a fog and I can’t think straight. I am vaguely aware of things going on in the house – my children talking, dinner being cooked, the TV is on, but I can make no sense of any of it. I don’t even know what day it is, or what time I took my last lot of pills, and I can no longer take solace in a cup of tea because everything tastes like metal.
My phone beeps and the postman arrives and I know people are willing me on, but I can’t respond because I’ve been stripped of my wits and it takes too much effort to talk.
So I sit cocooned in a blanket on the sofa and wait. Because this will pass. And I will revive. And feel like me again.