Paradise Lost III: Reporting Live (ish) from San Antonio

[cathschaffstump]

The last time I was sick at a convention, I left. My logic? Cons aren't fun when you're sick.

So...here I am in San Antonio at Paradise Lost III, ostensibly resting, except now I've taken so much Robitussin I'm kind of antsy. This is the point where the bottle tells me to stop taking Robitussin and consult my doctor. Sure, I'll do that.

I'm having a pretty good time here, in spite of my being low key. Yesterday, after things being so hectic earlier in the week, I actually LIKED being able to sleep in airport chairs and on planes. It felt like dipping tired feet in cool, delicious water. My ears really hurt for some of the flight, but I got over that. I really had some moments of delusion yesterday, when I thought I might actually be getting better. But then I would do something silly, like walk, and cough a lot, and incur the pity/wrath/horror of fellow travelers.

I have this I can't breath trick right now. I do get my breath back, but I gasp for it in the middle of a kind of whooping cough. And unfortunately, I can't tell when it's going to happen. Let me tell you, if you really want to break up the flow of a return to the hotel conversation, this is the way to do it. Although you will feel like a freak later.

Yes, kids, I do see my doctor next week anyway, and if I need to, I'll get somewhere here. I think I'll be all right. The faboo Chris Cornell helped me find a Walgreens this morning, and I bought some maximum strength Robitussin that has been addressing my symptoms, if it hasn't been, you know a faith healers hands or anything. I am both antsy and tired. Love medicine.

Blah, blah, blah, am sick.

BUT let me tell you something--this is a pretty well run little affair here.

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Mirrored from Writer Tamago.