Early last week, he began to feel off-colour. A scratchy throat was bothering him, along with additional weariness. I went for a doctor's visit on Wednesday and mentioned to our GP that Michael wasn't very well, with sweating, tiredness and a sore throat. His response was unequivocal. I was to start Michael on antibiotics immediately. I knew we still had a script of his mega amoxicillin at home, so congratulating myself that I'd caught his illness early, I gave Michael his first dose.
By Friday morning, I knew he wasn't right. He alternated between very flushed and very pale, was nauseated and producing green phlegm. The sweats were becoming frequent, making him feel even more miserable. I came down to the Gallery, leaving him at home to have a long shower, get dressed and do nothing else.
He drove himself down to sit with me and have a cup of coffee. By now he was silent and hunched and when pushed, admitted he felt pretty rotten. That was enough for me. I rang the doctor and secured an afternoon appointment for him.
Lunch was a non-event due to his nausea. Concerned that he may be sent to Perth for a chest X-ray, I packed his drugs, my drugs and a change of clothes and undies. I watched our GP spend a long time listening to Michael's chest, particularly his left side. Even more alarming was Michael's tongue, which had turned partially black. The Bitch was back, lurking in the shadows.
The expected diagnosis was confirmed - Michael had a chest infection in his left lung. Fortunately, our doctor still felt it could be controlled with antibiotics. He added another antibiotic bomb to Michael's regime and advised Panadol to help with the fevers. We drove home, I made us some Osso Bucco to lub-dub on the stove, dosed him with his new antibiotic, an anti-nauseant and Panadol and then we went for a rest. We were both asleep in seconds.
This morning, Michael woke to see if he felt well enough to go the Perth to view a long-awaited documentary about Parkerville Amphitheatre - "Sets, Bugs and Rock and Roll". I think he'd made up his mind that he was going, no matter what. As our friend and international man of mystery, Guy, was accompanying him, I couldn't deny him. Parkerville Amphitheatre had been a venue from his youth, where Michael had collected booze, drugs and ladies' knickers after performances by bands. Very excited and very flushed, he left after breakfast, promising to let Guy drive if he ran out of energy.
And now I'm waiting anxiously for his return. I will never underestimate The Bitch. She is a sneaky, vicious creature who delights in causing havoc in Michael's body. The overnight bag is still in our bedroom. I will not unpack it until I know Michael has fully recovered.
Wish us luck.
Michael, sleeping with his lover, on Wednesday afternoon.
No comments:
Post a Comment