A few days ago I woke up with such a headache I thought I had the remnants of an all night bowling party with my head being used as the bowling ball. As the day progressed, along with the headache came a cough, which made my toes curl up to my chest, and a fever the stock market wished it could replicate. It was at that time I started to think, “Maybe I’m getting sick.” When I finally took out the thermometer, I found my temperature was 102.5˚, followed later by 103.5˚. Perhaps I’m a little too optimistic, but up until that moment, I figured it was “allergies.” It took a while to find the thermometer because I don’t get sick too often. I used to have dozens, but they were nowhere to be seen. I figured out the one I finally found was somewhere in the neighborhood of 50 years old. How did I know? Well, it said it was an ovulation thermometer. You remember that ladies? I guess the other ones went the way of most thermometers when you’re shaking them down—flying off behind a radiator, against a wall, under your right foot as you back up to look for it, etc. You get the idea. I do have a beeping thermometer. The last time I used it, I walked around with that thing in my mouth for an hour and a half before I realized I couldn’t hear it beep. That’s a topic for another time. So now I had to resort to this last remnant of the “good old days” to take my temperature. Surprisingly, it still worked which can’t be said about a lot of other things. At this point I figured it was time to call for professional help. My internist’s answering service called back and the covering doctor said, “I think you should go to a walk-in center and get evaluated.” It was a great idea, except for the fact it was sleeting outside, and with the wind chill, it felt like 5 degrees. The thought of turning into a “feverish popsicle” didn’t quite appeal to me. The alternative was “take two Tylenol and cough medicine.” Now we were getting somewhere. I was confident, until the next morning, when I awoke with temperature at 103.5˚, which meant I’d gotten nowhere at all. I finally got to see my doctor, and the first thing I said to him was, “Don’t go near me, I’m sick.” With that he pulled out a mask. By the time he got near me, I didn’t know whether he was going to examine me or rob me. I imagine when I get the bill later I’ll be right on both accounts. (I’m delirious with fever—only kidding!) After I stopped laughing at my inside joke, he suggested I should have gone to the hospital. Right! Doesn’t he know how many sick people are there? The worst part was I couldn’t hold a decent conversation with all my dearest friends and family. It kind of went like this. “Hello…”—cough, cough cough—“My ears are blocked… Who’s this?”—sniffle, sniffle, sniffle—“Yup, I think I’m sick”—blow tissue, blow—“No I don’t have an appetite!”—gasp, gasp, gasp… But wait; why am I suddenly thinking a piece of cake wouldn’t hurt? Okay, I can live without the cake, but the frozen dark chocolate Kisses are a good substitute. I convinced myself they were for a medicinal purpose. What harm can a handful of dark chocolate Kisses do, unless you’re really picky and will only eat the other varieties? Fortunately, I don’t have that problem. Even though these are my favorites, the other types would have fulfilled my medicinal needs just as well. Aah! That chocolate was so soothing to my throat. You know chocolate covered pills would be a great idea for those who are “pill-challenged.” Worst, yet, in the midst of all this turmoil I had to cook. Well, how else do you make hot water for tea? In my house, every time I touch the stove and turn it on, which in itself is a rarity, I consider that cooking. Well, it’s twelve days later and I still sniffle, cough and gasp, but I think I’m better. I had an opportunity to reflect on how wonderful my family and friends were during this siege, and could only feel grateful and how fortunate I am to have them, because I never felt lonely. I truly love and respect each one a bit more. Good support truly is a major part of healing. I hope to see you soon. Achoo! Oh, no! Where are the tissues?! ON THE TWELFTH DAY OF SICKNESS… 14 NORTH SHORE TOWERS COURIER ¢ March 2017
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