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Too tired to respond to comments on the previous entry. I'll try to get back to them later. I hope you understand if I don't.
Meantime, though, I'm fighting off a mild cold. Barely anything, really. But it brings with it an annoyance, and I just feel the need for a quick whinge.
About as far back into my childhood as I can remember, I've had a dry, red throat. Hurts like heck if given a chance. Sometimes worse than that. Used to complain about it, and Dad used to check me out. He'd reassure me, try different things which never worked. Then he'd go out into the hall, close the door, and tell Mom that it was really red and he had no idea what was wrong.
Fortunately, I also have a persistent post nasal drip. It acts as a sort of natural cough syrup, so that most of the time I don't feel anything. The two together sort of cancel each other out, and they rank down at the bottom of my medical troubles, along with being bald and having to take a little thyroid pill every morning.
But when I get a stuffy nose, the drip clears up, and invariably my throat starts to hurt. It's been worse in the last couple of years because I had surgery to open the airway in order to partially alleviate my sleep apnea. They cut out as much as they could. When my throat gets sore, it starts to feel like someone took a knife to the back of my throat, and... oh, right. They did. And it left scars.
So I've got this minor cold. About the only benefit to my hyperactive immune system is that I rarely get sick from external things, and when I do I usually get about half the severity for about half the time. That part's actually pretty nice. This time, I don't even have the usual heightening of the fibromyalgia aches and pains - well, they have been somewhat worse, but it's also been very humid and I've been short on sleep, so I don't think the cold is doing too much in that department. Really, what I've got is a stuffy nose. And hence a sore throat.
All of which comes down to four very simple but very important words: "It hurts to talk."
A simple concept which my family seems to be having unusual trouble grasping. Last night (for me - it was about 9am this morning for those outside my personal time zone), while I was lying on the couch - exhausted, dizzy, and achy (which I'd warned her about the night before when I woke up, having discovered the necessity the previous morning before I went to bed - that I was short on sleep and by the time she got up in the morning I'd be at the end of my day and feeling like crap) - Mom insisted on pestering me with questions, wanting me to help her plan July 4th and whatnot. I tried to communicate to her that I wasn't up to it, to no avail. Finally, I out and out told her (in a hoarse whisper) that my throat hurt. "So does mine," she confided (without any apparent difficulty in speaking), and then continued to press me. Later, while I was on the far side of the kitchen, gathering stuff in preparation for going up to bed, Mom asked me to verify that a certain quote was from Shakespeare. I nodded, but she wasn't looking. So she asked again, apparently expecting me to speak up so that she could hear me from across the room. The others have tried to ask me stuff, too, but those were the two most egregious instances. And usually Mom is the one who gets these things the best (which is why I'm more prone to complain about the times when she suddenly and inexplicably fails to do so).
I suppose that's one advantage to being nocturnal just now - for most of my day, I'm the only one awake in the house (except sometimes the dog, who doesn't expect much in the way of conversation). Of course, it also means that the little time when I am awake at the same time as the others happens to be at the very beginning and very end of my day - when I'm most tired.
All of which is relatively small potatoes, all things considered. But I just needed a sec to vent about it.
Meantime, though, I'm fighting off a mild cold. Barely anything, really. But it brings with it an annoyance, and I just feel the need for a quick whinge.
About as far back into my childhood as I can remember, I've had a dry, red throat. Hurts like heck if given a chance. Sometimes worse than that. Used to complain about it, and Dad used to check me out. He'd reassure me, try different things which never worked. Then he'd go out into the hall, close the door, and tell Mom that it was really red and he had no idea what was wrong.
Fortunately, I also have a persistent post nasal drip. It acts as a sort of natural cough syrup, so that most of the time I don't feel anything. The two together sort of cancel each other out, and they rank down at the bottom of my medical troubles, along with being bald and having to take a little thyroid pill every morning.
But when I get a stuffy nose, the drip clears up, and invariably my throat starts to hurt. It's been worse in the last couple of years because I had surgery to open the airway in order to partially alleviate my sleep apnea. They cut out as much as they could. When my throat gets sore, it starts to feel like someone took a knife to the back of my throat, and... oh, right. They did. And it left scars.
So I've got this minor cold. About the only benefit to my hyperactive immune system is that I rarely get sick from external things, and when I do I usually get about half the severity for about half the time. That part's actually pretty nice. This time, I don't even have the usual heightening of the fibromyalgia aches and pains - well, they have been somewhat worse, but it's also been very humid and I've been short on sleep, so I don't think the cold is doing too much in that department. Really, what I've got is a stuffy nose. And hence a sore throat.
All of which comes down to four very simple but very important words: "It hurts to talk."
A simple concept which my family seems to be having unusual trouble grasping. Last night (for me - it was about 9am this morning for those outside my personal time zone), while I was lying on the couch - exhausted, dizzy, and achy (which I'd warned her about the night before when I woke up, having discovered the necessity the previous morning before I went to bed - that I was short on sleep and by the time she got up in the morning I'd be at the end of my day and feeling like crap) - Mom insisted on pestering me with questions, wanting me to help her plan July 4th and whatnot. I tried to communicate to her that I wasn't up to it, to no avail. Finally, I out and out told her (in a hoarse whisper) that my throat hurt. "So does mine," she confided (without any apparent difficulty in speaking), and then continued to press me. Later, while I was on the far side of the kitchen, gathering stuff in preparation for going up to bed, Mom asked me to verify that a certain quote was from Shakespeare. I nodded, but she wasn't looking. So she asked again, apparently expecting me to speak up so that she could hear me from across the room. The others have tried to ask me stuff, too, but those were the two most egregious instances. And usually Mom is the one who gets these things the best (which is why I'm more prone to complain about the times when she suddenly and inexplicably fails to do so).
I suppose that's one advantage to being nocturnal just now - for most of my day, I'm the only one awake in the house (except sometimes the dog, who doesn't expect much in the way of conversation). Of course, it also means that the little time when I am awake at the same time as the others happens to be at the very beginning and very end of my day - when I'm most tired.
All of which is relatively small potatoes, all things considered. But I just needed a sec to vent about it.
From:
no subject
Many vibes for your throat.