Remember I was saying yesterday how it seemed my M.E. was stepping up it's game? Well, it turns out I might have been a bit hasty in that assumption.
After writing that I was feeling slightly better in comparison to Saturday, once the Paracetamol wore off I steadily got worse again from mid afternoon onwards.
The fever, pains and headache returned and the cough, which had previously been the least of my problems, became painful and hacking. I'll spare you the finer details but let's just say, what was coming up from the recesses of my upper respiratory tract was not pleasant at all.
During the night my breathing became very shallow and my heart stated racing. Once again, I was tempted to call for an ambulance but didn't want to make too much of a fuss or feel like I was wasting anyone's time.
After the most fitful sleep imaginable (actually, calling it sleep would be generous), I called my Doctors surgery early this morning to request a home visit. I knew my usual GP didn't work on Mondays, but I was feeling so desperate I knew I couldn't wait until he was back in.
Seems they really don't like doing home visits 'though because I was heavily persuaded to go into the surgery. Despite me saying I could barely walk, barely breathe and had no access to a car. I got the impression you'd actually have to be on your deathbed before they'd even consider putting a toe over your threshold.
Anyway, without any other option, and knowing I'd have to get there somehow, I called for a taxi. As I had no money on me I had to get it to stop at a cash point en route. I was in so much discomfort that this extra inconvenience was just the cherry on top of what was already a less than perfect situation.
I finally staggered into the surgery. I must have looked a sight: white as a sheet, dark circles, gasping for breath, with my hair sticking up on end. One for the album, for sure.
So, after a relatively short wait time (thankfully!) and duly coughing up my lungs as if on request, I was diagnosed with a chest infection (my first in three years, which is rather disappointing). And a particularly nasty one at that.
I was sent off with a prescription for Amoxicillin and Doxycycline. Amoxicillin I've had countless times, but the Doxycycline is a new one on me. Apparently it's very strong but can also cause you to feel very nauseous. Hooray.
I was also told to keep up the fluid intake (which I was doing anyway. As a seasoned chest infection sufferer, I know the drill) and dose myself up on Paracetamol.
Prescriptions in hand, I staggered (yep, more staggering) to Boots and then into a taxi back home.
I've spent the day imbibing various drugs, dozing on and off, drinking tea, and generally feeling pretty miserable.
It never rains, but it pours, eh?