It seems when you are with child everything is twice as hard. I've had a nasty cold/flu thing going on for the past week and oh boy, let me just say I've never felt this way before. This would be the second bout of cold since Bob came along. The first one was equally nasty. Normally I bounce back quickly from my colds. Because what I normally do is douse myself senseless with Night Nurse and let my body fight the battle. After a couple of days I'm back on my feet.
Obviously I can't drug myself, so I have no choice but to let it run it's evil cause. The first night it snuck up on me, which was on a Tuesday, I woke up with a throat that looked like a bunch of footballers had been running around them in their spiky boots. I rushed to the hospital only to be told off by the doctor. After waiting for over an hour, she said she only agreed to see me because I was pregnant, otherwise I can't just waltz into the hospital and expect to be seen; unless I'm bleeding, running very high temperature, suffocating or the baby is not moving. She then sent me on my way with paracetamol and advice to drink lots of warm tea with lemon and honey.
Every week we read stories in the papers about people who visited their GP's only to be told 'its nothing'. Unfortunately it turns out to be something and next thing they're dead, like cancerous pain in the leg that is diagnosed as muscle pull. Or we hear about people dying from illnesses that could have been treated early because they were afraid to cause 'a fuss' by going to see their GP. Also I've been told by my pregnant friends that things like this are bound to happen. They've warned me not to be afraid to go to the hospital; that it's better to be told off and have peace of mind than to sit at home worrying to death and putting baby at risk. I completely agree. So didn't mind being told off by her one bit.
After all I'm not a hypochondriac. Truth is I felt really horrible that morning. My throat closed up and I couldn't even swallow water. I couldn't imagine making it through the rest of the day feeling that way.
That was last week. For the past few days I've been having bouts of coughs that end up with me doubled over in the bathroom throwing up. I'm sure I've consumed the equivalent of a truck of lemons, and still, I wonder when I'll start to feel normal again. I feel sorry for Bob, who kicks me when I cough hard. Plus when I sleep I'm off for about 9 hours, I just hope he's not starving because I don't even have an appetite. I'm frightened to death every time I wake up and don't feel him move.
Obviously I can't drug myself, so I have no choice but to let it run it's evil cause. The first night it snuck up on me, which was on a Tuesday, I woke up with a throat that looked like a bunch of footballers had been running around them in their spiky boots. I rushed to the hospital only to be told off by the doctor. After waiting for over an hour, she said she only agreed to see me because I was pregnant, otherwise I can't just waltz into the hospital and expect to be seen; unless I'm bleeding, running very high temperature, suffocating or the baby is not moving. She then sent me on my way with paracetamol and advice to drink lots of warm tea with lemon and honey.
Every week we read stories in the papers about people who visited their GP's only to be told 'its nothing'. Unfortunately it turns out to be something and next thing they're dead, like cancerous pain in the leg that is diagnosed as muscle pull. Or we hear about people dying from illnesses that could have been treated early because they were afraid to cause 'a fuss' by going to see their GP. Also I've been told by my pregnant friends that things like this are bound to happen. They've warned me not to be afraid to go to the hospital; that it's better to be told off and have peace of mind than to sit at home worrying to death and putting baby at risk. I completely agree. So didn't mind being told off by her one bit.
After all I'm not a hypochondriac. Truth is I felt really horrible that morning. My throat closed up and I couldn't even swallow water. I couldn't imagine making it through the rest of the day feeling that way.
That was last week. For the past few days I've been having bouts of coughs that end up with me doubled over in the bathroom throwing up. I'm sure I've consumed the equivalent of a truck of lemons, and still, I wonder when I'll start to feel normal again. I feel sorry for Bob, who kicks me when I cough hard. Plus when I sleep I'm off for about 9 hours, I just hope he's not starving because I don't even have an appetite. I'm frightened to death every time I wake up and don't feel him move.
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