The Stupidity Gene

OK, here's the situation. My cough started up again (perhaps from embers of the last cold I had three weeks ago) at the weekend. Not badly. I didn't think too much about it. On Wednesday, when I was back at work, I started feeling really ropey. Sore throat, very light headed, shaky and extremely nauseous. I came home at the end of the day and went to bed. I did well with the sleeping (it's a specialty of mine) and felt a lot better in the morning. The cough was certainly easing off. I got up, showered, and looked at the time. Plenty of time to walk or cycle to the station for my train. I sat down, tea in hand. I couldn't do it. I just couldn't get there. I picked up the phone to call a taxi. I considered as I did so, the 15 minute walk at Kings Cross, and almost started crying. I had a quiet word with myself. It went "Look, Goldberg, if you can't face walking for ten minutes, you're not fit to be going to meetings. And if you're not fit, go to bed." In doing so, I was sacrificing my social calendar. One doesn't take the day off work and then go out for the evening, not even for Summer's birthday meal. I called the meeting and gave my apologies. The relief I felt was palpable. I did a lot of resting, and tried not to be asleep for too much of it - it messes up your circadian rhythm, which I was keen not to do. Frank was ecstatic. He lay on me purring for most of the day (try not to think about him extending his claws right there). I decided to catch up on Doc Martin, which I love, and had so far missed the entire series, which was enjoyable. I love how rude he is, although it's phenomenal how many rare conditions there are in such a tiny village. Some people might think that general practice would be more dull in such a small town.

I posted a facebook message that read like this:

And I had a myriad of responses, which included a link to the Muppet Babies Get Well Soon Song from Britta, and a query from Susie about whether it was a delayed hangover. However, more alarming was the ones following that...

In accordance with this instruction,  I also decided to take the Friday off work. Actually, I would have done even if I hadn't been trying to get better in order to kill myself for a race. Although I felt better than Thursday, I still felt as if I'd been run over by a truck. I phoned my line manager and explained what was at stake. She was very understanding. There is some rule that says if you take a day's leave and you're sick, you can switch it for sick leave. I told her that although this would probably be the case, I had no intention of doing so, as it was largely going to be my choice.

I've just realised that by including this image, I've blown the secret covers of several of my friends. Damn, I'll just have to hope that they aren't litigious. Or try not to say anything libelous about them from now on, I've only got 2 days to go. Also, I could put here, any similarity in names is entirely coincidental.

Anyway, this morning, I got MORE messages on this thread. They were kind of backing up Sal.

I liked the stupidity gene comment. It's quite possible that the whole "running" thing may trigger this otherwise inactive gene, and turns it on. It definitely has with me. I'm going to have to look out for Nick on the way round as well, in case he tries hunting me down. As if I didn't have enough to worry about.

There's nothing for it, I thought, I'll have to ask a GP, that way it'll be their fault if I die. I booked an appointment for the afternoon, and Frank got onto my lap, purring very contentedly because I finally seemed to have learned my lesson. "Woman, know your place" was his general message. (It's on the sofa - not in the kitchen - and definitely not in Scotland). When my alarm went off at 3, we were snuggled in bed together, and I did wonder if it would do me more good to just stay where I was, but I got dressed and staggered off. The surgery is at the end of my street, so it wasn't far to stagger.

"If you just had a bunged nose, I'd tell you to take some hankies round with you" the GP said, "but for more systemic symptoms" (apparently this is medical for feeling like you've been run over by a truck) "I'd really suggest you didn't run it." I gave her the fish-eye. "It's important to me. I've raised over £800. I want to run it" I told her. "What'll happen if I run it anyway?" She listened to my chest and established I didn't have any bronchial infection, and took my temperature. She said if I'm feeling light-headed now, I might expect to feel more so; that I might be breathless; and that it'd probably take me another week to get rid of the virus. She said if I were a professional sportsperson, obviously it would be out of the question, but if I wanted to... I could. "I think you're mad though" she added helpfully. Then added: "But I think you're mad for running it at all". I almost explained the whole sponsorship deal, and how much I hate running, but I didn't think I'd squeeze her for sponsorship. It's probably unprofessional. She'd told me all I needed to know. I thanked her and left.

Ian came over after work to get a sleeping bag off me for his trip to Kenya, and delivered my sponsorship and sweepstake form. I asked him to check the post for my Macmillan t shirt, but it never arrived, so looks like I'll be running in my red shirt (don't forget to look out for me!). After he'd gone, I totted up my offline earnings, not forgetting to add the £37 from the wedding, and also to deduct £10 off the sweepstake earnings (although hopeful that the winner may add them to the mix. I found I'd had some more online donations too.

I've/You've/We've raised a staggering £997.10! 

This is amazing! Although for some reason, JustGiving thinks that this is 100% of my total. I'd love the extra £2:90 if anyone feels so inclined. Macmillan would love it if you blew my total right away.

I may not make the time, but I'm going to do my best to make the distance. It's all in the breakfast now!