The whole family has been coughing, off and on, for more than a month. We do this every winter, no matter how much vitamin C and exercise and constant humidification we attempt. It's just part of winter.
Except, this time, I got hit HARD. I have been coughing pretty much non-stop, since Friday. Exhausted. Whiney. Cough-til-you-gag-and-your-ribs-ache. At certain parts of the day, my hands puff up. When they go down, my stomach bloats until I can't zip my pants...and then that resolves itself, too, with, um, unpleasant results. I'm hot. I'm cold. I can't breathe. I've gotta lie down. I'm just waiting to choke on my own vomit. On Saturday, I even managed a Cinderella-like hallucination.
Finally, here it is Tuesday, and I am on the mend. Surely not functional, but at least I can see it around the corner. So, naturally, Hubby had the cough of death this morning. Perhaps in part because he has been working like a dog AND running the house while I recouperate--even hosting a birthday sleepover for Son #3, who is, he says, "Twerve".
God help us all.