Tuesday I ventured out into the cold to get some cold remedies as my two roomies were still asleep and I was in dire need. When I came back in I was coughing, Adam asked if I had received my Victorian Trading Company Catalogue of Maladies and picked out some consumption (referring to the Victorian Trading Company catalogues I get sent to the house with various replicas of weird Victorian stuff).
Today I was blind with pain from the stomach muscle I pulled while coughing, so I called the doctor to see if she had advice (or preferably drugs). She asked me to come in and I obliged, and upon my visit I learned that perhaps I did order a little something from the Victorian Trading Company Catalogue of Maladies as I have…
After picking my jaw up from the floor my first question was, “Don’t you get vaccinated against that as a child?” I mean, I know my parents have had their negligent moments but they’re not Scientologists or anything. She said yes, I was vaccinated, but it can wear off after 18 years or so. Would have been nice to know that. So I’m at home until Tuesday. When I called to have my co-worker put up my out-of-office reply she told me the whole department was in an office looking up Whooping Cough. I’ve inspired a real Victorian bout of hysteria!
It’s not as serious in adults as it is in children but I’m probably still pretty contagious or whatever. Adam, who’s been taking care of me, is away for the weekend and Debbie’s been building a fortress in which to hide since I started coughing on Saturday. So it’s just me, raspberry vegan cheesecake, codeine, and bad movies on TV– the height of Victorian decendance. Perhaps if I collect alms from the right souls I can get that fainting couch I wanted.