Oh oh

So I'm sick at home.

Again.

I have been off work more for illness since I started at the school than I think I have ever been in my life. I am told this is not unexpected: that until your immune system catches up, you will take home every last germ that the little ones cough, sneeze and wipe on you.

Bless their little hearts.

And there are some pretty wicked germs out there. Apparently, the two weeks I walked around feeling "rotten" were actually a serious middle ear infection. Last Friday, I went to the doctor and was prescribed antibiotics.

They did not work. In fact, the bacteria infecting my ears seemed to find them quite amusing, dancing around the antibiotics with glee, calling them names and occasionally ritually taunting them.

So on Tuesday I went back to the doctor, who confirmed that the antibiotics he had initially prescribed had been about as useful as tits on a bull (pardon my french) and gave me a different kind of antibiotic: one that is usually prescribed to people whose immune system has collapsed.

These are serious drugs. The side effects alone are terrifying. According to the product insert, side effects can include:

• fits, seizures and convulsions
• confusion
• nightmares, hallucinations and psychotic behaviour (even progressing to self-endangering behaviour)
• visual disturbances
  
• severe watery or bloody diarrhoea
  

So basically, the side-effects are "homicidal mania", only with severe bloody diarrhoea.

In fact, the insert goes on to say "the tablets may cause dizziness or faintness in some patients, especially after the first few doses." This was certainly true, and explained why I woke up this morning feeling like I'd spent the night drinking Cuba Libres. Now normally, I like that feeling; just not over breakfast, you understand.

And, as an aside, the walls of the house seemed to have shifted to the left, which is the only reason I can think of for my repeatedly walking into them all day.

They aren't where they're supposed to be, you see.

And that "confusion" side effect is a doozy. "Babbling idiot", which I apparently succumbed to last night, would have been a more apt description. Bruce tells me that when he got home from work, I was sound asleep and yet apparently had a complete - if largely incoherent - conversation with him. Later, at 11pm, when I regained consciousness, I once more babbled as though my brain had given up the controls to my mouth, only this time I was aware of it.

It is a disturbing feeling to not be lucid, and yet to be aware that you aren't making sense. I am not sure that 'homicidal mania' with violent diarrhoea is not the more desirable side-effect.

So, if I stop writing suddenly, and you don't hear from Bruce in a few days, you'll know what happened.

If the infection didn't get me, the cure did.