You can actually lose a whole week to quite minor illness, I’ve found. But I’ve been told by a few people that, from the stress I was feeling, I was probably fighting off this nasty bout of fevers and headaches for maybe two weeks or more beforehand. I can offer no symptoms for a better diagnosis than that, apart from crawling sinusitis a day or two before the point at which I was too confused to get to work. That day I spent in bed, cowering as Tuesday’s thunderstorm passed overhead, far too close.
The dizzying effects of sickness are worsened by the ongoing requirements of this still-urgent project (less so, now that the clients themselves have to some extent missed deadlines). Where the currents of the two have met and commingled my world seems to now consist of much the same stuff as everyone else’s, but with perhaps last Sunday till last Friday sunk without trace; at any rate, whirled and eddied up on the surface until the timeline is unrecognizable as such.
It’s arguable, even now, whether or not I’ve recovered enough to go for three days of sailing with everyone at work, starting tomorrow. But at the same time it’s moot: I’ve agreed with my boss to at least go and have a day of it, after he proposed free return train and ferry fares if I started feeling ill, or fell in. Besides, I’ve bought Helly Hanson deck-shoes now (a bargain at under ten pounds), so I’m quite the nautie. Next time you see me, in fact, I might just blank you if you’re on dry land. You’re not a real man until you’ve had double pneumonia, you see.