Down With Disease

So recently I went to the emergency room on a Friday morning because my primary care physician doesn't take appointments on Fridays (what a sweet gig, apparently he's off on Wednesdays as well and he only takes cash - that's what I get for having such outstanding health insurance coverage). For the past week, I've have what I consider all the symptoms of the plague. I can now relate to the plight of the caged animal or even the common housepet that doesn't get out much.

Apparently, I have bronchitis and sinusitus (which wasn't a big surprise as I've been fighting a battle with my left nostril for about a year now - nothing major enough that needed any treatment though). Now I rarely get sick, ever so this whole debacle has been my own personal hell. I'm sick of coughing, I'm sick of drinking fluids, keeping food down is a struggle. I'm not vomiting, but every meal is a journey.

And the medication, who doesn't enjoy a nice alphabet soup? I swear they mix up the neglected letters of the alphabet like q, y, z and x just to make things more difficult for the general public. I don't think I would have had the patience to work with sick people. I wouldn't put up with my erratic behavior during my sick tenure.

I think we all suffer from some sort of seasonal affective disorder and it is rather SAD literally. Only someone that is truly evil can embrace the chill of the winter months. I'm convince skiing is a cult, people hurling themselves down mountains like that with their red faces and their chapstick infused smiles. I don't believe it for a second. Hot beverages and soup burns the roof of your mouth. Again, more patience is required to be slopeside. And these apre ski parties I always hear about, maybe I'm never drunk enough. Or maybe the people at these parties on the most part are truly devoid of levity and debauchery. Doesn't seem like it's my kind of party.