It only hurts when I breathe or swallow or look
Not unlike the Native Americans unprepared for the viral intransigence of Europe's plague-infected world travelers, I am insufficiently immune to the thundering horde of toddler germs present in your everyday fun factory. I have lost the battle. I fear I may die of botulism. If I knew what that was.
A throat thing started Monday, followed by aches, headaches, then upper respiratory, then re-attacking the throat for good measure, now sniffles and all of the above... orange juice, chicken soup and NyQuil be damned. Every time I rolled over in bed last night, my head, throat, and chest felt like one of those sand and water kaleidoscope framed dealies at Smarter Image, where all the liquid at the top seeps and sloshes down to the bottom.
Fortunately I had my annual physical scheduled for today, although the doctor told me my throat is fine, my lungs are fine, it's just an upper chest buildup o crap trying to shake loose, perhaps I'm just menstruating, and other nonsensical stuff I just couldn't argue with in my state. Particularly since I was still stewing about having somehow passed the hearing test despite my ears sounding like UHF Channel 13 at 2:40am circa 1974, yet being told I failed the vision test ("failed" per flight surgeon standards, that is). You would have thought they would have factored in the glazed film over my eyes from being sick for three days and gotten little sleep, not to mention the small layer of crusty phlegm coating the eyepiece (I asked the tech for a tissue to clean it up). At any rate, I now have to go to an optometrist to see if I need corrective lenses to push me back to 20/20 from my debilitating current rating of 20/25.
I imagine the corrective lenses are the size of a chick-pea.
A throat thing started Monday, followed by aches, headaches, then upper respiratory, then re-attacking the throat for good measure, now sniffles and all of the above... orange juice, chicken soup and NyQuil be damned. Every time I rolled over in bed last night, my head, throat, and chest felt like one of those sand and water kaleidoscope framed dealies at Smarter Image, where all the liquid at the top seeps and sloshes down to the bottom.
Fortunately I had my annual physical scheduled for today, although the doctor told me my throat is fine, my lungs are fine, it's just an upper chest buildup o crap trying to shake loose, perhaps I'm just menstruating, and other nonsensical stuff I just couldn't argue with in my state. Particularly since I was still stewing about having somehow passed the hearing test despite my ears sounding like UHF Channel 13 at 2:40am circa 1974, yet being told I failed the vision test ("failed" per flight surgeon standards, that is). You would have thought they would have factored in the glazed film over my eyes from being sick for three days and gotten little sleep, not to mention the small layer of crusty phlegm coating the eyepiece (I asked the tech for a tissue to clean it up). At any rate, I now have to go to an optometrist to see if I need corrective lenses to push me back to 20/20 from my debilitating current rating of 20/25.
I imagine the corrective lenses are the size of a chick-pea.
posted by Dan at 9:18 PM
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