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A Shoe Full of Vomit
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1/10/2006
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Right now I would very much like to pay someone to take a chainsaw and cut an arc entering at my eyelids, back through my skull, down along the front edge of my spine, and exiting just below my nipples, effectively removing my entire upper respiratory system. All of that stuff is completely wrecked and I don't think it will ever function properly again.
I don't get sick very often, but when I do, I do it right. I left work early yesterday because every time I stood up I thought I was going to pass out. Figured that was as good a reason as any to go home. When I got home I collapsed on the couch and didn't wake up until 6 pm. That's a five hour nap that I don't usually take, and I woke up even more tired than I was when I got home.
The last thing you want to do when you are sick is cook, so I found some soup in the cabinet and turned on the stove. Shortly after opening the soup, I accidentally touched the stovetop. The resulting jerk of my elbow sent 16 ounces of Progresso Chunky soup spraying across my kitchen.
The last thing you want to do when you are sick is scrub soup out of the tile backsplash above your sink. Finally I settled in for some rest. Just as I was praying to die in my sleep, I heard the damn cat start with the huk-huk-huk noises, indicating she was going to eject the contents of her stomach onto the floor. Since I have concrete floors, I figured I'd leave it and clean it up when I was better able to deal with it. Then I opened my eyes just enough to see that wretched beast heave about 3 quarts of cat fur and partially digested kibble right into my new shoes.
The last thing you want to do when you are sick is clean cat vomit out of your dress shoes. No one should ever have to type that sentence.
Unfortunately, I woke up this morning. I actually felt worse than I did the night before. That's got to be some kind of record. I tried my voice, and I sounded like a cross between Barry White and Julia Child. I felt like them, too, as they have both been dead for some time.
I called to make an appointment to see a doctor and they told me that my primary care doctor had retired in 2004 (like I said, I don't get sick very often) and I had to call my insurance company to declare a new primary physician.
The last thing you want to do when you are sick is call your insurance company.
Of course, the answering system for the world's worst health insurance company was all, "Please say your member number. It is 16 digits and characters and can be found on your insurance card..."
It took me four tries to get the tape recorded lady on the other end to understand it. Finally she got it.
"Please say your date of birth"
"Ten eleven seventy-two"
"Please say your date of birth"
"Sweet feathery Jesus."
"I'm sorry, I didn't understand you. Please say your date of birth."
In my weakened state, I was sure she was making fun of me.
"GODDAMNYOU FUCKINGWHORE"
"Nine. Twenty-two. Eighty-four. If this is correct, press 1."
I started screaming until I was wracked with a coughing fit that made me drop the phone.
A voice came on to tell me that the call was being recorded. So look for it on an internet near you, because it was a good one.
Then, a person answers. After a few minutes I was told that my primary care physician had been changed and I would be covered using the new doctor.
Starting February 6.
"But today is January 10th."
"Yes sir, the changes don't go into effect until next month."
"Mmm...okay. I kind of need to see her today."
"Oh, you're sick right now?"
"..." (I opted not to say anything, as I couldn't think of anything that wasn't abusively sarcastic)
"What about your primary care...?"
"Retired."
After another half hour and a conference call, we got all of that squared away. When I got to the doctor, she told me that it was an upper respiratory viral infection, and although modern science can clone a sheep, split an atom, and provide hundreds of channels of quality television programming, it cannot kill a virus. This malady and I will just have to battle until one of us dies. For the next day or two I'll be watching quality daytime programming. Luckily, Charles just happens to be in charge of my days and my nights.
When I got home I remembered that I had to write this blog.
That was the last thing I wanted to do.
 Dusty
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posted by Dusty at 4:06 PM |
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16 Comments:
The last thing a well person wants to read about is all the awfull things that happen to a sick person. JUST KIDDING. Tell Quise I', proud of her for not throwing up on your tile floor. you have trained her well. Hope you feel better in a week. That is how long it took Kaye to get over it.Then she got it again. twice as bad. The last thing a sick person wants to do is read about another sick person
Myabe you should hack up some phlegm on the cat, just to call it even. And you'll feel a LOT better.
In my prayers, Ken
The upside of marriage: she'd cook your soup and clean up the huk. The downside: your BC rate more than doubles. Have a kid, your screwed.
Get well, euthanize the cat, stay single, use protection.
Hope ya get to feelin better soon man. Best wishes for you and the kitty.
Please apologise to Queasy for me- by the way did you name the cat Queasy because it pukes a lot, or for other reasons? Get well soon.
you should do that more often
Good ole clutsy.
Sorry to hear about your phone call. I think i would have had a meltdown. Brain poached right in the skull and quietly slipped into a coma. "Record this bitch! ZZZZZZZ."
Hope you're feeling better by now.
Stick that run on sentance in your pipe and smoke it.
Want your cat to hack less? Try something called Vita-Gravy. My cat LOVES it and it cuts back on hairballs by about 75%.
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