A Sick Sense Of Humor

As mentioned before, I don't usually write about bad stuff unless it can somehow be made funny. Well, funny to me. That's why I haven't said much about Emily and I both being sick through the entire month of December, and now into January.

I mean, it's winter, I'm sick, it's moved into my sinuses--not exactly breaking news. Everybody's sick. People buried for five years have set off local seismographs with their coughing. You may think I'm joking, but remember: Many of those same dead people voted in the last several elections.

I got so sick I was unable to do any writing work for over a week. No editing, no submitting ... a little promoting, but that's the un-fun part, anyway. I started going into withdrawals. I also had to take time off from my full time job, but I had about fifty sick days saved up. In this one case, that's not an exaggeration.

"I could take a sick day, but I prefer to wait until I turn green."

 

At the rate this winter's been going, I'll be down to zero in no time.

It's led to certain things being said around the house that I'd just as soon not have said:

 "I talked to the doctor: She wants us to stop talking to her."

"Why do we still live in a house with one bathroom?"

"Siri, how many cases of Kleenex can fit in a Ford Escape?"

"Dr. Fauci's at the door, he's coming out of retirement just for us."

And my favorite: "My mucus is fluorescent green. Could this be Kryptonite poisoning?"

Hm. It occurs to me that this bug makes us feel exactly like having a hangover, but without any of the fun parts from the night before.

 We still don't know what it is, although Emily got a two for one case of croup. She coughed so much that at first our worried dog hovered over her. Now he curls up in the room furthest away. (He was sick half of last year. Now he's fine, except everyone keeps waking up in the wee hours to make ramen and tea.)

"Good news! They want a few gallons of my blood for a study!"

 

They tested us for flu a. through f., Covid, mono, strep, plague, rabies, mad cow disease, and something called M-Pox, which is apparently transmitted by monkeys, but for some reason we can't say so. The CDC set up a tube passage that ran directly from our back door to their tent. "Have you figured out the problem?" I asked the Doc while he was doing a preliminary check of my wallet.

"Yes, you don't pick up the dog poops enough. It'll take hours to clean up our clean room boots."

"No, I mean about what's wrong with us."

"You're trying to earn enough money writing to retire."

"No, I mean medically."

"Oh. Uh, you have an upper respiratory illness."

"Thanks. I figured that out when I started sounding like Elmer Fudd."

 

"Well ... it's a bad upper respiratory illness."

At that point he prescribed a controlled substance to Emily to quiet her cough, because people who haven't slept for three days have been known to throw kitchen implements at doctors, not that it happened here.

No pharmacy in northeast Indiana had that medicine. Apparently we're not the only people with a cough.

 But it's okay, because after a few weeks of insomnia I was able to sleep right through the coughs. As for me, the crap moved--as usual--into my sinuses. Sinus infections are like my old friends, who stop by twice a year to visit for a month. That, I know how to deal with.

Oh, and don't worry: I'm taking care of Emily. Nothing ever goes wrong with anything I'm trying to fix.

You can find our decontaminated books here:

http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/"Mark R Hunter"

Remember: Whenever a book doesn't sell, a doctor loses his patience.