February 4. Day 35. Wilting

Now it would be wrong to suggest that I go through life as fresh as a daisy, but today I was a particularly washed out, colourless version of myself; a mere shadow of a functioning human.
In the first instance I would have diagnosed tonsillitis apart from the small fact I still remember the jelly-and-custard-thing post the surgery to remove the tonsils. And in any event, just as I concluded I'd clearly eaten razor blades, the congestion came and lastly the wheeze. Eventually the need for air results in taking Ventolin. I hate Ventolin. It gives me the shakes. Big time. But breathing is good. Very good so I take the drugs and whinge about it.
What a delicate little blossom I am but I am a little blossom with air in my lungs which beats the alternative. Washed out I may be but at least I live to fight another day.