Summer Sickness


Alright, I’m done. I am officially over it. Do you know how long I was begging for summer to come even though I don’t like it that much? I just needed to feel my toes once in a while. I needed to be able to get up in the morning without slamming on the heating and waiting for my lips to thaw. I didn’t ask to be incinerated instead. I didn’t envision panic googling global warming every morning. Disclaimer: I know global warming is a very real problem and my problems are ultimately trivial so continue reading at your own mercy.

The problem with this thick, unmoving, angry heat is that even the smallest of tasks become impossible. By midday my energy has completely depleted when all I’ve done is unpack a bag that’s been lingering in the corner of my room for a week. The idea of writing seems so laborious and laying as still as I can in front of a fan becomes my full-time occupation. How am I meant to use my imagination when this alien heat is constantly frying my brain? So I lay still, conserving my energy for “big jobs” like the days I actually have to do work or for the dreaded task of cleaning the flat. I’d just like to put it out there that cleaning the naked isn’t sexy as it sounds, in fact, at all. I was driven to it by sheer necessity. Do I really want to be squatting down, cleaning the floor with nothing between me and the various mystery stains that exist in our flat? Not really. But, by this point, peeling off my skin was becoming an appealing option to escape the heat.

Do you know what’s worse than cleaning in thirty-degree heat? Being sick in thirty-degree heat. Literally, the day after I had acid poured on my cervix (if you thought I had been dramatic enough already, you were wrong), I was slapped in the face with a cold. Now, I know this sounds horrendous, but really, I can’t even do it justice. Silver nitrate being introduced to my cervix was the most painful thing I have ever experienced, like, I-could-pass-the-fuck-out-right-now kind of pain, it was literal agony. So, the cold just felt like a punchline to a bad joke.

Harvey was ill first and for some reason, it didn’t even enter into my mind that I could catch it too. I wrapped him in a duvet, parked him in front of the TV to watch whatever films he wanted and urged him to shove lukewarm chicken soup down his throat while kissing him all the time like a fucking idiot. Obviously, the next day, I felt the repercussions kicking in. You know it’s hitting you when you’re exhausted from doing the smallest things and everything makes you feel sick. I couldn’t read a page of a book or play GTA for more than ten minutes before a wave of nausea came crashing down. That was the moment, kids. I knew I fucked up.

So I surrendered to my fate and became host to the parasite that is the common cold while my cervix was still screaming at me in the background. Colds are so shit because they’re so mediocre. Like, I’m not sick enough to lie in bed all day and call off all engagements without feeling guilty, but also, I don’t have enough energy to do anything. Cancelling on plans because you have a cold always sounds pathetic even though they do legitimately suck. So we festered in our sickness and quarantined ourselves for about five days. I got cabin fever. It crept up on me so suddenly when I was watching I, Tonya that I kind of manically ran outside in a last-ditch attempt to be free before toddling home with a carbonara ready meal and a mildly embarrassed look on my face.

It was pretty funny how useless we were. It got to the point where our only form of real life conversation with someone we knew was orchestrated by shouting down to our friend outside our flat and writing SOS on notebooks and thrusting them out the window. So, yeah, being sick when it’s this hot is pretty unbearable. There’s no relief. You’re burning up and the only thing that makes you feel remotely better is a fan lazily coughing in your direction every once in a while. While I’m feeling pretty bitter about summer and the fact it’s going to be over before I’ve even mustered the energy to step outside and actually enjoy it instead of complaining all the time, I can really get on board with these crazy storms and weak respite from the sun. There’s something so comforting about intense rain while it’s still warm and the rushes of lightning followed by the loudest claps of thunder at night. I’m into it in a big way.

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