Almost three weeks ago I came down with what I thought was going to be one of those summer flu bugs, the ones that seem even worse in the heat and I prepared myself for a few days of whining about it. After four days of feeling like shit I decided a trip to the doctor was needed, huge red and white pills and a worry of meningitis. Luckily I didn’t have that. I only believe in medicine when it suits me and in spite of taking the pills I ended up in bed for the next seven days. I don’t remember ever being that sick in my life and I still can’t see much of the funny side of it, it’s captured my sense of humour. Perhaps because I rarely even take a painkiller I reacted badly to all of the medication, I had panic attacks that still leave me cold when I think about them.
I can walk in a straight line and my legs have stopped shaking at the knees, I’m searching for my sense of humour in all of the blue boxes.
I gave the ‘vomit’ illustration to my sister for her attempt to make me better by allowing me to eat cornflakes and salmon together. The rest I might sell to anyone who wants to be reminded of my misfortune.
(I should probably add that the title of this post comes from the lyrics of ‘The Art of the High Five’ by The All New Adventures of Us.)
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