I sit. I swallow. My own saliva sliding down my throat, burning and searing. Tears arise as I wince at the extreme pain.
I grasp for my mug of hot tea. Gulping. Trying to swallow and eliminate all of my saliva. Wishing the hot, apple cinnamony honey tea were my saliva, something more soothing to slip down my sore throat.
Because, indeed, I am sick. I have a sore throat. I could deal with a cold. Colds are easier to handle. A sore throat.... Oh dear...
Last night seemed to last for weeks. The stinging pain weaved itself through all my dreams. I awoke many times in the night, tossing and turning, gulping painfully, trying to fall back asleep to leave it. I would fall asleep, to be haunted by strange, fever some dreams I cannot remember now.
Finally, I got out of bed at 12pm this morning, and left the night's tortures before me, only to face a day of that searing pain.
Being as compulsive as I am, I changed out of my pajamas, which turned out to be a wise choice, for I was needed for a trip to the store. A trip to buy the necessities for a house full of sick children.
7-Up, soup, orange juice, three different bags of cough/throat drops, boxes of tissues, oatmeal and popsicles. We are well stocked for a weary week of misery.
And thus, I go now, to return to my bed, my mountain of (unused) tissues (my nose is not stuffed in the least, but I keep them with me for...moral support...) and throat drop wrappers, and the all around gloom of being sick.
Even the snowy (yes, it is snowing here, in April), cloudy, freezing weather outside matches our feelings and sickness. Ahhh... what a wonderful existence...
I just want to feel better...