… Glandular fever is also known as “mono”.
So there. That is what I have.
A quick whine
Things are a little bleak right now. I just can’t seem to kick this glandular fever. my life feels full of cancelled plans and circling the TV guide and worrying about my impending lawyer exams.
MindReader and I were supposed to be in Cardiff this weekend, taking a drive through Chruch Stretton and Ludlow on the way and generally be a lovely middle aged couple for the weekend. But of course the glandular fever is having none of this so I am stuck on the sofa for the 6th week in a row, too tired to stand up.
This Thing is making me cry randomly.
Tips?
Conversations I could not have with my Doctor
Lucy: How are you today?
Having spent the weekend with her in London, double dating with Lucy’sBoyfriend and MindReader, I am of course exhausted.
Billygean: Tired. I am not in college AGAIN today because glands are big and I’m too tired to stand up.
Lucy: Oh dear. I’m sorry.
Billygean. It’s okay. I should have said something to you on Saturday. Anyway, after we left you on Sunday morning we walked round like the whole of Regent’s Park with MindReader’s brother.
Lucy: You should tell people when you need to stop. When I had glandular fever I just had to take naps there and then.
Billygean: It’s quite hard though. Most people don’t even know what it is. I don’t really want to announce to MindReader’s brother that I need to sleep in Regent’s Park.
Lucy: True. At least when I had it I was yellow. So I was obviously not well.
Billygean: I’d like to be yellow.
Lucy: It was good.
Billygean: Do you think if I drink enough Lemsip I will go yellow?
Lucy: You should eat a lot of tomato soup, then you go orange.
Billygean: Oh really?
Lucy: Yeah, it takes ages though.
Billygean: I don’t like it either.
Lucy: Double gloom.
I was counting my time in 6 minute slots too
“Is it really that bad then?” I say to Anonymous, whose mouth is drooping.
“Quite. I’ve told him if it doesn’t change in the next few months we might have to take a break.”
“God really?” I say
“Yeah, well, I just don’t know what else to do.”
“Right. So until then are you going to take any further action?”
“Could you maybe get out of lawyer mode?”
Making my day
“So what’s new?” A says as I put my soy latte down on the Starbucks table.
She takes a very long scarf off, sending her dark mane flying upwards.
“My glandular fever test was positive and my purse was stolen today,” I say, deadpan. “You?”
“Oh Christ,” she says. “That’s absolutely shit. How’re you feeling?”
“Shit,” I say. “Things like brushing my hair tire me.”
“Oh.”
She pauses.
“And how’s MindReader?”
“He’s well,” I say. “Sympathetic.”
She smirks suddenly, a glint of white teeth.
“What?” I say.
“Nothing.”
“No, what?” I say, reaching across the table and prodding her arm.
“It’s just, you’re all lit up.”
It’s good that they like him considering I am developing broody tendancies
I walk across Nanna Billygean’s living room, my finished Chinese takeaway plate in hand. I reach across DoctorSister’s Husband and grab DoctorSister’s plate too.
We are in Newcastle visiting an assortment of my very extended family and MindReader’s very extended university friends.
The hallway is silent as I move through it. I pause at the kitchen door, slightly ajar, for no reason.
“So do you think this one’s The One then?” Nanna Billygean’s geordie voice says.
“You never know,” MadFather says. “She was in bits over Spring. But you should see her with MindReader. They’re so happy. They laugh almost constantly.”
I feel as if I am smiling from head to toe as I burst into the kitchen, and Nanna Billygean’s eyes are damp.
Scenes from my Doctor’s surgery
“Just calling for a blood test result,” I say into the phone as I sit in traffic on the M6. Yes, that means I have ventured back into the world of law.
“Was it a pregnancy test?” the receptionist says.
“No,” I say sharply. “I DO NOT WANT A PREGNANCY TEST.”
“Okay!”
“It was a glandular fever test,” I say.
“Oh,” she says, making an assortment of Looking noises into the phone. You know the types. “One moment please,” and “Just having a quick look…” said very slowly.
“Oh, it’s – it’s gone!”
“Um?”
“Sorry we appear to have lost it,” she says.
“What do you mean you’ve LOST it?” I say.
“Well, it’s missing.”
I am lost for words. Does she want my help? So I say the only thing I can think of.
“Well, where did you last have it?”
