Being sick sucks. I’ve somehow managed to get a four-week cold that got worse every week. I had so many plans that just went by the wayside. I’ve basically spent a month doing nothing but working, coughing and sleeping. I’ve wasted theatre tickets that I’d paid for and just didn’t have the energy to go to see the shows and I’ve refused social invitations and slept and not got better.
On Monday night last week, I woke up in the middle of the night, confused and feverish. And in one of the more over-dramatic events of the last while, I fainted while peeing. Another first for Connor. Then, last weekend, my glands hardened up and one side of my face ballooned to three times the size of the other.
I finally went to a doctor yesterday. Going to a doctor for a cold seems a bit excessive to me, but I guess this was an unshakeable monster of a cold. The doctor confirmed that I did indeed have a cold (and was somewhat dehydrated) and had some bronchitis. She gave me some antibiotics (free ones – I love the NHS!) and sent me on my way.
Two weeks ago, I got an ad via the Growlr app, telling me that there was a “Bear Carnival” happening in Gran Canaria. Now, I’m no fan of bear culture, and its obsession with macho, hairy, sweaty sex and its obsession with beards and checked shirts and rugby and Marvel movies. But, in most taxonomies, I am a bear. And I guess I should be putting myself “out there”. I booked flights for a three-day visit to Gran Canaria on a whim, presuming I’d be over my cold by the time I left. As it happens, I’m on the train to the airport now, I’m still coughing and spluttering and my initial vision of me going to “bear pool parties” and “bear sex parties” has basically been replaced with the idea of sleeping in the heat until I stop producing quite so much phlegm.
Whatever I do, I’m sure it’ll be interesting. I’m staying in a “gays-only” development, not one of the official Bear Carnival accommodation blocks, because they were full, so just one for gays in general, regardless of their bearishness. I don’t know what a gay hotel is like. I’m rarely in male spaces. Will it be like secondary school again? Who knows! Watch this space!