Monday, December 10, 2012

Down With The Sickness

Ladies and gentlemen: I hate being sick.

I hate feeling like my body is betraying me. I hate feeling like I'm falling apart into my component molecules. I hate coughing and sneezing and sweating and wondering if I'm feverish.

I hate not being able to sleep. I hate taking NyQuil and feeling like I can't wake up. I hate taking DayQuil and waiting for it to kick in. I would not touch ZzzQuil with a twenty foot pole on a dare.

I revile sitting in a darkened room alone, either because the light hurts my eyes or because I don't have the strength to make it to the switch. I hate having the blinds open because the light from outside is too painful. I hate having the blinds closed because I can't see anything. I hate opening the blinds because all I see outside is fog and rain and drizzle and vehicles driving desultorily through the cul-de-sac outside.

I detest it when the dog, as loving and sympathetic as she is, insists that her bladder can't hold anything more and makes me take her outside, because if I don't she'll forget what she's out there for and start barking at the neighbors.

I am filled with loathing when, at 5:30 a.m. little Lina hears someone or something outside and launches a thermonuclear barking salvo at the intruder, which for all I know was nothing more harmful than a squirrel scratching at the back door.

I suffer when, having gone out into my backyard in my boxer shorts clutching a hammer, I discover that the back gate is indeed open, and spend long minutes circling the porch with my hammer raised while the dog relieves herself.

I swell with regret when I report this to my wife, and have to hold her while we wait for our morning alarms to go off.

I am utterly miserable when I have to call into my office and let my boss know I won't be in today, and might not be tomorrow; and that I'm going to need more time off on Thursday than I thought. I hate looking at the amount of leave I have left and seeing it drop down, down, down.

I flush with embarrassment when I realize how far off course this blog post has gotten.

Ladies and gentlemen: I. Hate. Being. Sick.

So. How are you?

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