Sick. Again. Blah.

Well, I just got over another one of those colds. You know the ones: you sneeze, your throat’s sore, you hallucinate all night, having visions of NaNoWriMo meetings in warehouses of moving crates while the angle of death, a man with a photocopy of Richard Nixon’s face for a head, chases people around with a chainsaw.

That’s where I was Monday night. Feverish, run-down, and possibly insane. I actually called off work, which is something I never do. I’m feeling better now, though.

I’ve really need some health insurance.

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6 Responses to “Sick. Again. Blah.”

  1. hear hear. I’ve had this same ucky crap for almost two weeks now. Went to the walk-in clinic today and met one of those doctors who has ‘thoughts’ on antibiotics. He doesn’t like to dispense them. I was counseled to let the virus run its course and get some Vicks Vapo-Rub.

    $65 bucks to be prodded and touched and scrutinized and I don’t even get a bottle of pink crap.

    Holy hell.

  2. I actually agree with the “letting it run its course” thing. It just seems that lately, I get sick more often. If I had insurance, I could try to figure out why my immune system went all weak sister on me.

    I like the phrase “weak sister,” even if it does offend my feminist sensibilities.

  3. BTW, the hallucination I described was the actual one I had that night.

  4. *counts…. 13 days. If a virus hasn’t ‘run its course’ in 13 days …

    GrAWg

    I won’t growl at you, but his diagnosis was RETARDED.

    That’s an interesting hallucination. Especially the photo-copy of Richard Nixon’s head. I was gonna ask you if the angle of death was acute or obtuse, but decided you didn’t deserve smart-assery in your uckiness.

  5. The hallucinations sound like Grant Morrison’s Doom Patrol. Seriously.

    I am totally against letting it run it’s course. I’ve always been a run to the doctor type, and I’ve been lucky to have insurance most of the time (even paying for private health insurance). One time back in about 2000, I decided to let a sinus infection run it’s course, because hey, all my friends at school never went to the doctor. That was a really really really awful mistake. On about day 5 of it I hit the point where I literally couldn’t swallow. It felt like I had a hot coal in my throat, so I went to the doctor and got antibiotics, the way the gods intended.

  6. You see?

    Jayson knows. “the way the gods intended.”

    Antibiotics is the right and just reward for having to sit 45 minutes in a clinic waiting room, thumbing through a germ-ridden back issue of The New Yorker, before being admitted to a claustrophobic little antechamber where a stranger with hands like dead fish will fondle your chest and stare up your nose in a disconcerting fashion.

    No one subjects themself to that unless they’re pretty fairly sure they’ll die, otherwise.

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