My cold lingered, picking up steam with each passing day.
The pinnacle of my misery: gasping for air in the middle of night after a particularly violent coughing fit, frightening both my sailor and myself. Time to visit the doctor.
She diagnosed bronchitis and prescribed antibiotics. They should start to kick in after about forty-eight hours, at which time I should not only feel better but will no longer be contagious.
Until then I’m mooching around the house, feeling like something the Chihuahua rolled in.
I’m way too busy for this and besides, bronchitis was never part of the “Christmas with my sailor” plan.