Monday, November 28, 2011

Philosophical fun with the flu

I'm sick.  I will be better before I get to read through ALL your messages of sympathy so don't send one.  Buy my book instead.  But I have never been so philosophical about illness and I wonder if it is age-related or what.

Last week I felt like every muscle in my body was complaining as though  I'd gotten/I got out of a risen   I rose from a wheelchair and ran a marathon.  And, no, that is not politically incorrect cuz if I didn't have surgery eight years ago, I would be in a wheelchair.  Then Thanksgiving was its usual depressing downer and I woke up Friday feeling sick.  I mentioned to my daughter that it would be interesting to know what the germ does in your body to make you feel this way and she offered me her Pathophysiology text.  Okay, I am not that interested.
So I've just been sleeping and reading a lot and taking so much medicine.  Benadryl and guiafenesin and aspirin or ibuprofen plus the usual daily six pack (not beer, for God's sake.)  And I would have an English muffin (which I fork-split) just because I thought my stomach could not bear the chemical assault, but then I would feel like I was going to lose that, small wonder the chemical stew in there.  And my mind feels fine, but is really racing, more than usual.  I think the pressure from the sinuses causes this.  I offer myself as test subject. And today Fran wanted to do secret shopping for the kiddos and I wanted so much to go along and look at toys and play with the Fisher-Price pianos and stuff. So we go Panera and Toys r us and she swings through the ATM lane which is half way back to my house and I said, maybe you should take me home cuz I don't feel so good.  I get out of her car and I STAGGERED.  You know how people always use that word and really what does it mean?  I staggered over and leaned on a tree then staggered to the porch and leaned on the door and got the door open and leaned on the wall and  slowly staggered up the six stairs. I am sure the neighbors think I had a three martini lunch.

What is being "sick"?  It doesn't hurt.  It's just like weirdness and a different feeling in every cell.  I don't even have a fever. And they say 'that song is sick' and it could mean it is great or horrible.  "You sick bastard!" is definitely negative but frequently said with a laugh. Well, it's a good reason to rest up and slack off and make people go buy you popsicles.  And I am almost finished with a little mystery book that popped out of the bookcase at me that was published in 1968 and is actually pretty good.  There's a right moment for everything.  So, back to my book.  I'll be fine tomorrow.  Which is what I thought last night.

I was dabbling with the Kindle last night or afternoon, it is all a blur to me, and I was reading my own book, which I do all the time, and I noticed I use the word GOT an awful lot.

Today's CTA:  what is your favorite flavor popsicle?

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