I made it through a little half-day at work on Monday, but I’ve been home for the past two days. This bronchitis is killing me. Maybe it’s because of the exhaustion (since I can’t seem to sleep for more than two hours continuously), but I honestly cannot remember the last time I was this sick.

The worst is at night, I have coughing spasms where I can’t catch my breath and I don’t know how to stop them. Dave has somehow slept through all of it the last several nights, but last night he woke up during one of my coughing-in-my-sleep fits. He started patting me on the back, which was sweet, but it woke me up, so that was no help (exhaustion-wise, anyway). He said this morning that he was worried because I sounded like I was dying. Out of desperation, a couples of times in the middle of the night, I have actually used Dave’s asthma inhaler, which does help a little bit. Go me for disregarding my doctor’s instructions.

Oh, and also? I think I might have pink eye. Somebody just kill me.

I don’t have anything else to write about. I apparently picked the perfect week to get sick because everyone is at a big conference in downtown Seattle all week, so I don’t think anyone has even noticed that I haven’t been in the office.

I’d whine some more, but I need to go lie down with a cup of tea and some hot compresses on my eyes. Pray for me.