There’s a box under my bed that my husband and I refer to as ‘the zombie apocalypse box’. It’s a box of steroids, pain killers and antibiotics in different varieties and strengths. Before anyone has a panic or thinks that it’s a problem, they’ve all been prescribed to me for my use only and a lot of them are rescue packs given to me by doctors, which means that their purpose is to be kept for a ‘just in case’ occasion where I might need them, but can’t get to a doctor. Like in a zombie apocalypse! (joking).
Realistically, if there were some kind of pandemic or zombie apocalypse, I wouldn’t survive long. My body has a meltdown for very minor things, so running from zombies or trying to avoid getting sick would kill me off from the stress alone, never mind actually getting sick.
But that’s a bit depressing, hence having named it the zombie apocalypse box. Having a rubbish illness has to pay off some point, right? So we joke because we have enough medicines to keep us going for a reasonable amount of time. Plus, in order to rule out autoimmune causes of Adrenal Insufficiency, I had to have additional vaccines which the majority of the population aren’t given. So we decided that these extra vaccines make me immune to zombie attacks, and, my husband for some crazy reason never gets sick so he’ll be ok too.
You develop a bit of a morbid sense of humour when you have an illness that can kill you quite easily, otherwise you’d be too scared to do anything. I’m not remotely a believer in a zombie apocalypse actually happening, but it provides a source of amusement for me and my husband!