Doctor’s Orders: Rest Up and Do Nothing


Urgh, I’m ill.

I caught it from the husband, Peter who spent last week suffering with man-flu before Oliver, 8, was struck down with it, spending two days off school and is still harbouring a Rudolph style nose…. Alexander,6, has so far *knocks wood, bypassed it with presumably the flu jab working with him as he’s usually the first to catch the smallest of sniffles, and admittedly, I spent most of my time while playing Florence Nightingale for the invalid twosome, gloating about the strength of my germ-busting constitution. That was until all the boasting came back to bite me on the bum with a red-raw throat and furiously aching legs starting with low level pangs to full on throbs which made even walking to and from the car today feel like a marathon.

I don’t have any other obvious symptoms of flu weirdly, no streaming nose, high temps or tickly cough, just rather odd aliments spanning an intermittent rash, a relentless itch and fever like-symptoms without an actual fever. The body can be bonkers, can’t it? Brilliant but blooming barmy.

When seeing the doc earlier today, my consultant in fact, the chap who cut into my thyroid 5 months ago, he advised I rest up and chill out. To put my phone away and stop rushing around like a complete and utter dingbat. Wise man. He didn’t call me, ‘a complete and utter dingbat’ by the way. But I can be one at times.

That tough love was exactly what I needed to hear today: doctor’s orders to do absolutely ZILCH.

I can hear myself now,

‘But the doctor told me to put my feet up and binge watch Suits Series 1 and 2 (my faves) all over again, Peter, so no, I can’t move off the sofa for at least 36 hours and can you bring me some vegan mulled wine’. In other news,  can we please discuss for one hot minute how fine Harvey Specter actually is, please?

….So, I’m embracing taking life that bit slower this week.

I’m frustrated to have been hit with a bug, of course I am, but I’m also equally grateful for the enforced rest to be honest, and at this point in time where the Christmas cognitive load is stifling me, and nothing seems more inviting than lying on my sofa eating dark chocolate rice cakes and taking cat naps whenever the mood strikes me.

I love Christmas, I really, really do. I blubbed my way through the Christmas By Candlelight Carols Service tonight in church my son sang at (which I nearly missed due to said legs and am grateful I didn’t) and I relish in ordering Christmas flowers and candles for people I love and catching up with old friends for a festive tipple or two (yes I sound 105 but I love the word ‘tipple’ and that’s that so deal with it) but it’s an intense period for many of us, and putting my feet up for 30 minutes post-docs today reminded me of quite how much I need to be still more.

To do nothing, more.

Nothing but drool over Harvey Specter and watch the sharp and utterly stunning Rachel Zane aka Meghan Markle in her pre-Duchess days. Love her.

So that’s what I’ll be doing. Nothing much. *Drool, drool, chomp, chomp, zzzzz.

Have you got the lurgy too?

Doctors Orders Rest Up and Do Nothing

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