How can the cure be worse than the ailment?
I was asking myself this question at about 3:45 pm as I lay on what I truly thought was my deathbed.
For those of you who have heard my barking cough for the last week, the degree of my illness has been quite apparent. Each breath laboured, each cough sounding like the great black death back for vengance. There are only so many days one can take off of work to sit at home and watch Dr. Phil before one has to break down and make a doctor's appointment of a different kind. Which brings me to today......
The phrase 'I'm hesitant to say pneumonia......but your lungs are 'crackling'- and that's not good." is ominous no matter what. The fact that the pharmacist tells you these are some strong pills, and then lists off a myriad of side effects- concluding with "these are a given, but it will get better"....not encouraging. But with the light of health at the end of the gauntlet of germs I have been stuck in, I plunged ahead- figuring, how bad can it be? I laugh in the face of the little orange sticker that says "TAKE WITH FOOD" every day....it doesn't scare me.
It does now.
It lulled me into a false sense of security. Arriving at work at noon....having been smiled on by the parking fairies and having impeccable luck at the medical lab for a quick and painless blood test, I was feeling good. Perhaps it was the psychosomatic effects of having choked down the two magical horsepills in a post-pancakes & coffee euphoria.....
Not two hours later I found myself clinging to the counter in the bathroom, damp paper towel on the back of my neck, silently pleading with the gods of willpower to let me stick out the rest of the afternoon, rather than admit defeat. Back at my desk, the letters on the computer screen decided to have a hootenanny.....twirling and gyrating in a twisted email square dance. A hurried 35 minutes later, I was wishing for death at home in my own bed, wondering what karmic evil I had committed that had garnered me this punishment. The phone rang- and I looked at it, knowing if I opened my mouth to speak, something of far more substance than mere words would make an appearance. Wait for the beep, then deliver my eulogy.....I'll call you back if I make it.
Hours later, a nagging hunger woke me....I had the unnatural craving for a Big Mac and fries. That's how you know it's really the end of the world. Armaggeddon has arrived.....everyone run to McDonald's. It's not going to matter that you ingest that garbage when you're a non-corporeal being.
Melodramatic...yes. Over the top....certainly. But I dare anyone to experience that and not recount a story of epic proportions. Only 9 more doses to go.....
For those of you who have heard my barking cough for the last week, the degree of my illness has been quite apparent. Each breath laboured, each cough sounding like the great black death back for vengance. There are only so many days one can take off of work to sit at home and watch Dr. Phil before one has to break down and make a doctor's appointment of a different kind. Which brings me to today......
The phrase 'I'm hesitant to say pneumonia......but your lungs are 'crackling'- and that's not good." is ominous no matter what. The fact that the pharmacist tells you these are some strong pills, and then lists off a myriad of side effects- concluding with "these are a given, but it will get better"....not encouraging. But with the light of health at the end of the gauntlet of germs I have been stuck in, I plunged ahead- figuring, how bad can it be? I laugh in the face of the little orange sticker that says "TAKE WITH FOOD" every day....it doesn't scare me.
It does now.
It lulled me into a false sense of security. Arriving at work at noon....having been smiled on by the parking fairies and having impeccable luck at the medical lab for a quick and painless blood test, I was feeling good. Perhaps it was the psychosomatic effects of having choked down the two magical horsepills in a post-pancakes & coffee euphoria.....
Not two hours later I found myself clinging to the counter in the bathroom, damp paper towel on the back of my neck, silently pleading with the gods of willpower to let me stick out the rest of the afternoon, rather than admit defeat. Back at my desk, the letters on the computer screen decided to have a hootenanny.....twirling and gyrating in a twisted email square dance. A hurried 35 minutes later, I was wishing for death at home in my own bed, wondering what karmic evil I had committed that had garnered me this punishment. The phone rang- and I looked at it, knowing if I opened my mouth to speak, something of far more substance than mere words would make an appearance. Wait for the beep, then deliver my eulogy.....I'll call you back if I make it.
Hours later, a nagging hunger woke me....I had the unnatural craving for a Big Mac and fries. That's how you know it's really the end of the world. Armaggeddon has arrived.....everyone run to McDonald's. It's not going to matter that you ingest that garbage when you're a non-corporeal being.
Melodramatic...yes. Over the top....certainly. But I dare anyone to experience that and not recount a story of epic proportions. Only 9 more doses to go.....
posted by sandboxtoy at 9:55 PM
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