Health? Nuts!

There's nothing original in observing that it's unpleasant to be sick. I shy away from writing tired stuff if I can help it, but that may be to my detriment considering how well formulaic, done-to-death material tends to do. In any case, I'm under the weather (meaning sick and not hung over this time), and I can't think about anything else. One may as well write about being sick if the alternative is to write nothing, and that's where I stand.

I was recently in close proximity to forty thousand people from out of town, and I suspect that one of them may have been sick, passing it on to me. I don't bear that person any ill will (unless they knew very well they were sick), but I would appreciate it if they could reach out to me and let me know what's happening with them so that I can plan day by day. If they get worse, I'd like some notice so that I can rearrange my engagements.

I ran out of tissues in the hours before my symptoms manifested themselves, and so I'm presently relying on toilet paper to deal with the sniffling and sneezes that are like a bag of popcorn halfway done. It's not ideal, but at least for the moment my throat isn't terribly sore. If it gets there, I'm going to do some shouting and screaming so that I feel at least like I came by my hoarseness honestly. It's just a matter of finding something to be mad about.

I might get mad about people who are ordinarily friends but who become very scarce when you are sick. In my case it makes sense, though: there are relatively few among me who enjoy the benefit of health insurance, and even those don't have any desire to break their schedule to see a doctor. I know I wouldn't,  because I'm sick now and I'm reluctant to see a doctor. I don't know if it's true what they say about men and doctors, but this man would prefer to get well by himself at home with a minimum of special trips and purchases.