The night from hell.

The night from hell.

You really don't want to know how I feel. But then again I'm not sure whether I can either feel, smell, enjoy or appreciate anything. You see my senses have just packed up and left me in a state of medical helplessness. It's hard to remember a time when I've felt quite as unwell for quite a number of years at the beginning of a New Year. It could be that subconsciously I've resigned myself to the fact that this may not clear up until Easter. But then you think rationally and convince yourself that this insufferable viral infection will go and normal health will resume sooner or later.

Now let's flick through my non existent medical dictionary. It can't be flu because I had that a number of years ago and that completely knocked me for six. I was confined to bed for the best part of a month and couldn't move at all. The sweat poured off me in great torrents and the fever reached its highest pitch. So I think it's safe to assume that flu can be safely discounted because all of my limbs, muscles, joints and most of my body just went on strike.

So what can I tell you?  Last night my cough from hell came roaring back like an express train and I was just a complete wreck. Every time I tried to lay my head on my pillow my chest began to feel as though a thousand elephants were trampling all over it. Then came the incessant spluttering and hacking that perhaps reminded you of a noisy West End wine bar. Or perhaps I'm allowing my imagination to run away with me.

What followed next was one horrific procession of coughs and more coughs and something that seemed to be attacking both my throat and chest like an invading army. Shortly I would be reeling, rocking and rolling from side to side, desperately clinging onto any semblance of good health and normality. I have to tell you this was a fruitless quest and one that left me in the most uncomfortable state of limbo.

Now I know there are women out there who dismiss men's illnesses as just man flu, an exaggerated condition that may leave you feeling weak and groggy but certainly not serious enough to warrant an ambulance. In a sense women are right and maybe this male affliction is no more than just a nasty cold and nothing even remotely as  dramatic than might seem the case.

But I now feel dreadfully washed out and drained, deprived of any energy and so lacking in verve and joie de vivre that the temptation is to go back to bed, wrap myself in blankets, loads of handkerchiefs, Vic chest rub, a good book, a couple of Paracetemol and generally feel sorry for myself. But hang on that's just a counter productive exercise because that'll achieve nothing and besides who cares for a bloke that thinks he's got the worst illness in the world? Men hey!

My family have been wonderfully compassionate and understanding so this is something I can take enormous strength from. Of course my chest feels broken, cracked, racked, battered and bruised. But the rest of my body has lost any desire or willingness to do anything at all. If only they could find a cure for restlessness and self pity because at the moment February seems quite a long way away rather like some distant lighthouse at sea.

Still it could be worse. I could be locked in a room with any politician of your choosing or I could be on the same train as George Galloway. Now that would be the most extreme punishment anybody could conceive of. I suppose I'd give Nigel Farrage a moment or two of profound thought but then he'd probably give me a pint of Guinness and tell me to refrain from damaging comments about Britain from his colleagues.

Anyway I've looked out of the window and that sunshine is just wonderfully gorgeous. It's winter sunshine and not the warm kind that we in Britain normally get for a day or two in any week during the summer. I can feel it streaming through our blinds with an almost irresistible conviction.

The fact is though that it's time for me to dose up with all the requisite medication. There are pills on our coffee table and the kitchen tops and dish washer are alive with every kind of tablet and cream you can think of. My body is slowly but surely mending itself but there is a frustrating indefiniteness about this virus. It just seems to be going on for an eternity. Still it could be far worse. It could be scarlet fever which it isn't because that what would be very worrying and I don't need worry.

No, hopefully this bug, virus, call it what you like, will work its way through my kidneys, liver, stomach and through all those pulmonary glands and ventricles. Yes I've had a word with my own personal doctor and he or she would probably tell me to relax, take it easy, rest and keep taking the tablets because that's the only realistic way you can deal with any medical condition. Oh for those long, warm and summery evenings and white sandy beaches. I'll wake up in a minute. Keep well folks.