Cursing, my usual defense against a pesky illness, had no effect upon the bug that invaded my body.
I gave it my best effort, out of earshot of friends and co-workers, but I continued to sneeze, cough and talk as if I had marbles in my mouth.
My eyes were watery, my ears were clogged. If I were living in the wild, the toxic green fluid that I discharged from my throat would ward off any predators. Don’t worry. I rarely bite people.
For two weeks, I was determined to let the bug run its course and just fend it off with water, rest and a couch potato’s lifestyle.
Not sure where this bug came from, but I suspect I got it from a co-worker – because it was “going around.” And when an office malady is going around, look out.
Sorry, I guess it’s presumptuous to think that the average reader knows what going around means.
Going around is defined as the state of which any malady, such as flu, is so contagious and threatening upon the host population as to cause consternation that a person can contract the malady, recuperate, give the disease to the person sitting near him and get it back again.
“Ain’t my fault you’re sick,” I heard an employee say to Don, a co-worker. “Larry brought it to the office six months ago.”
Don said something, but his voice was so bad, we had to bring in a frog to communicate with him.
Besides allowing the practice of employees pointing the fingers at each other, protocol in most offices where I’ve worked calls for personnel to freely dispense medical advice.
“Chicken soup, Tom. That’s the ticket.”
No can do. I don’t cook.
“Gargle some salt water.”
And I’ll put the lime in coconut, too.
“A good belt of whisky is what you need.”
Doc Holiday is alive and well.
“Go get some drugs.”
I hate drugs. A few years ago I had foot surgery and my doctor gave me a painkiller similar to Oxycodone. All it did was upset my stomach so much I had to go to the bathroom several times. And it hurt like hell to walk on my mangled foot.
“You should see a doctor.”
@#$! Gump! You’re a @$# genius! This is the most outstanding answer I have ever heard.
Oh, no. On top of contracting a bug that’s been going around for six months, I also have an earworm again. I keep hearing this tune sung by Harry Nilsson in the ’70s.
“Put the lime in coconut, and then you’ll feel better. Put the lime …”
After hearing unsolicited medical advice and making the mistake of consulting with the Internet know-it-all-wanna-be doctors, I was ready to bite somebody.
Fortunately, my annual visit to the doctor’s office was only a few days away, so I decided to tough it out until then.
Put the lime in the coconut, Put the lime …
Describing my symptoms to my doctor, I told him that despite my hacking, sneezing and chest congestion, I didn’t have a fever. He checked my lungs and said they appeared to be functioning normally. I decided to refrain from telling him about the earworms.
He said allergies appear to be the culprit and recommended that I take an antihistamine for my sinuses and expectorant for my cough. Since I didn’t appear to have a bacterial infection, he thought antibiotics wouldn’t be of any help.
I took the medicine, and lo and behold, I seem to be recuperating. I’ve also waged war against dust mites, which seem to be hiding in my house because I can’t see them. Same goes for earworms.
Taking a walk on a chilly afternoon, I felt better. Life was normal again. No more watery eyes. I could see oak trees dropping pollen-laced crud on the ground. My ears were clear. I could hear the distant wail of an ambulance. All systems were go in my nostrils, too. Walking past a lift station, I could smell the stench of sewage.
Throughout my ordeal, surprisingly, I never lost my sense of taste. A draft beer I was served in a restaurant was flat. Can’t conceive of anything worse, other than putting a lime in it.