Oh. Flip.

I’ve sworn before on this blog, I’m sure of it. Try typing in the F word and I’m sure you can come up with something. But bleh.

Today, this morning, when I was writing notes, I couldn’t quite see the page properly. The paper looked too bright, my handwriting a blur of squiggles and I couldn’t quite figure out what on earth I was writing. I’m pretty sure I was coherent as what I was writing was my “function-strategy-impairment” and treatment plan and I was going to hand it over to my mentor to study and then plan for the following day. Well, I hoped it made sense. I couldn’t give a damn, to be perfectly honest.

So I blinked a few times and decided that I was going to keep going.

And then the headache started.

It started pounding just slightly behind my eyes and then spread out to encompass slightly above and beyond the level that my glasses perch on my face. And then it radiated throughout.

Brill. Absolutely brill.

And then the nausea decided to have a party in my cranium.

Abso-f*scking-lutely brilliant.

So here I was, clutching my head, breaking out in a light sweat and praying that oh man, please do not let me faint/pass out/puke dramatically and just let me have the dignity to go say that I do not feel well and I want to go home.

But I thought, “I’ll tough it out. Panadol is good stuff.”

And unfortunately, the feeling that I was going to spew on someone caught up with me.

No…I didn’t spew on someone. I went home.

Begging my apologies to everyone (I tend to do that, often too, whenever I have to go home sick) I headed home, closed the curtains, curled up in bed and died and went to dream land for 5 hours during the day.

Woke up and the headache was a slightly recessed nightmare and the nausea? Gone. Phew. After the previous bowel clearing episode where all evacuation orifices were utilized, I’d rather not have to go through it again.

Managed to get two pieces of buttered toast and a chicken sausage into me at about 7ish so hoping that I’ll be able to stomach a bit more food soon-ish.

Its now past 12 midnight and I’ve managed to cook lunch for tomorrow as well as ingest two lamb chops. The headache has been banished to the realms of never-again. For now.

And so while I’m feeling better than I was before, some pictures are in order.

Scarily enough, someone came in with the same surname as me. I can just imagine myself in that hospital bed. Word on the street ward is that he’s the owner of a a supermarket franchise and he’s reportedly given each of his three sons one supermarket each.

I can safely say that I can claim to be a long lost relative. Papa!

Heading to the RSA (the equivalent of your average nightclub/bar with dance floor except its in good ole’ WangaVegas) where there was a rocking quartet of singers. They were really good and I was aching to get some dancing in but dang, the floor was packed and I could hardly get a step in. So I stood at this exact spot where I took this picture and waited for about 45 minutes before I thought that I would rather go to bed than wait for the floor to clear.

Took this at none other than Lone Star where I got bored and decided to take a picture of this quote. Truly madly deeply.

And sorry for lying to y’all but the impressive inking I had on my arm was only temporary. As much as I would have liked to say that I grit my teeth and bore on with the pain, I was also too chicken to have to deal with something permanent. Granted, I read at least 5 different websites regarding laser tattoo removal before I made the agreement that unless I’m really REALLY sure of what I want, I’ll stick to spray ons. Oh yeah, this was a spray on. As real as it looked, all it took was a dab of white talcum-ish powder, a sticker outline and a quick spray with an air brush. And for the duration that the tattoo was on, I was the baddest big boy on the block.

I should be in bed. Work calls and truth to tell, it really sucks donkey c0ck right now.