The Scourge

It wasn’t a good day. Or a good week.

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It started with a flu shot.

Waiting in line, I realize my nose is congested. But I think, “Oh, it’s nothing. I don’t get sick.” Then, post inappropriately public strip tease – to remove the pullover sweater and long-sleeve, button-down shirt I wore that day – I start to cough just a little.

Then I start coughing a bit more.

Then, uncontrollably.

And then, I puke. By 3:30 pm: I’ve gotta go home, hurry get the keys, no time to power down, no time to forward the phone, no goodbyes, coughing while driving, I need a doggie bag!, hurry up and unlock the door, pass out on the bed with a fever, delirious, freezing my ass off in my blouse and pullover because I’m a cheap-ass and hadn’t resorted to turning the heat on yet, brrrrr. It wasn’t a good day.

Or a good week. Two days later, I return to work with a head “thing.” I obstinately try to ignore it for weeks. I try drowning it in Dihydrogen monoxide. I try drowning it in beer. I even try downward dogging it away in a steamy, sweaty, hot room. But the perseverant little microbes have me by the proverbial balls. And everyone knows, balls are not good for grabbing.

I lose.

Hard.

On the fourth lost workday, I make the walk of shame into the doctor’s office. I haven’t seen the doctor in over a year. The last time I saw him, he looked like he’d lost at least fifty pounds. His belt cinched up his hanging pants and his shirt hung loose like he was a 1990s street kid who just wasn’t quite getting it right. This time, he is still svelte; but his clothes fit. A crap load of questions for the truant face. Deep breath. Ear poke. Germs. Sinus infection. Antibiotics.

Two days after the obligatory stint of pill popping – reenter the cough. The next day, not a cough; but UNMERCIFUL ATTEMPTS BY MY INDIGNANT LUNGS TO EMANCIPATE THEMSELVES OF THEIR SQUISHY, BROWN PRISON AND STRIKE OUT ON THEIR OWN so violent I pull a muscle in my chest.

A call to the Teladoc. Post-infection syndrome. Lame.

My body is punishing me. She is wicked pissed off about the neglect, mad about the flu shot, about the H2O, about the beer, about the vinyasa. It’s a full on revolt up in this bitch. I hope I win.

Author: NuclearGrrl

Nuclear engineer, afro queen, black mamba, feminist, clinic escort, beer aficionado and all around spectacular human being.