I feel like a joke. There’s an old one about a ditsy girl who wakes up in bed the next morning with a strange guy. She sits up, looks at him, and says, “Um, did we… You know?”
“Yeah,” he says, “we did. You don’t remember?”
“No, sorry, must have had too much to drink. Um, you don’t have HIV or syphilis, do you?”
“What? No, of course not!”
“Oh thank goodness. I’d sure hate to get those again.”
I know just how she feels – you hate to always be coming down with the same old stuff. That’s why I’m so excited to finally have pneumonia!
This started out as a sore throat and slight fever more than a week ago. I stayed home and drank lots of water, and I still felt like I’d been hit by a truck. When a week went by and I was getting worse instead of better, and the sore throat had turned into a cough, and the cough had started including a nice raspy wheezing sound that would have been great at Halloween parties, I went to the doctor.
This was yesterday. He prescribed an antibiotic, which I started right away. I went to bed with cough medicine, antibiotics, and medicine for my wheezing chest, expecting to wake up feeling good, refreshed, and ready for a new start on the week, if not on life.
Instead, I woke up with a full-body rash from an apparent allergy to the damn antibiotic. I itch all over, plus I’m still coughing.
Number One Son, all of 10 years old, offered some heartfelt sentiments this morning.
Number One Son: “You have pneumonia , Daddy?”
BUMD: “Yes son, I do, that’s why the Dr. gave me antibiotics. The only problem is that the medicine is giving me hives.”
NOS: “You have hives, Daddy?”
BUMD: “Yes, all over.”
NOS: “Daddy, if you die, I’ll probably go on anti-depressants.”
That may be the nicest thing he’s said to me in a long time. I’ll take it.
Sure beats getting syphilis again.