You May Think It's Funny, But It's Snot Aidan has been unwell this past week or so. He's picked up an ear infection and a nasty cold, causing him to produce surprisingly vast quantities of mucus and bogies so sticky they give previous world-record holder Toxteth O'Grady a run for his money. The gunk in his lungs also causes him to cough, often to the point where he is sick. I'm not talking about a wee dribble on the carpet either, but vast fountains of milky vomit, more often than not aimed directly at his dear old dad. Still, he's a Glaswegian lad, and so not one to let a little tactical chunder spoil his evening, normally grinning widely a few moments later as his father drips his way to the bedroom to change his clothes for the third time that day.
Babies that age tend to get these little infections quite frequently, we are assured, while their immune systems build up a database of common bugs and how to tackle them. Despite being regularly showered in infantile secretions, I felt certain that my highly-trained 33-year-old white blood cells would keep me safe and healthy. But of course, I am also in a new environment, surrounded by many variations of the common cold not often encountered in Glasgow, and am now paying the price for my immunological hubris.
In short, I feel like shite.
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1 Comments:
You made me read all that just to get some sympathy, eh? ;-)
Glad you are writing more though, nice to be able to 'keep up'.
By
Gordon, at 8:04 AM
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