Lately… I have been down and out in Beverly Hills.
And I’m not even IN Beverly Hills. That’s how down and out I am.
Sicker than the proverbial dog.
Hold it right there. Let’s back up.
Let me explain something. You may detect a little bit of crankiness. Irritability. Waspishness. Oh yes. It might sound like I have a chip on my shoulder tonight. If I DO have a chip … … it is highly coincidental…. as I have crapped everything else out of my body. I doubt that I still have a chip on my shoulder because everything else has passed through my body … … in the form of angry water. So if it sounds to YOU like I have a chip…. …. ….. Okay. Let’s just forget the chip.
Back to the top, I think. I have been sick. I also do not like the term “sick as a dog” which I slapped up there right from the start. (…cantankerous, bilious overtones….) My good dogs are such good dogs. They are rarely sick. They have been saints for the past six days.
Speaking of Saints. My Mary. Bless her heart. She has been kind beyond words. Kind beyond my imagination. She has had to put up with Mrs. Grumpy-Pants for the past six days. I cannot tell you how patient and kind she has been.
And now…. on to Mrs. Grumpy-Pants. THAT. Would be me. You know, On December 1st, I was as normal as I get. All my bodily functions were right on time. Behaving exactly as they should… without any help from me. And then on Thursday… some great evil and malicious plot took hold. I began to cramp in my head, my body, and my intestines. Severely, at times. Now… as I look back on this… it could have been worse. Thankfully, liquid has not been pouring out of my head, and all my body parts….. like it has been pouring out of my intestines. So. In hindsight (no pun intended)… things could have been much worse.
But alas. The intestinal virus had really overcome me, by Sunday. I was pretty dehydrated as a result. We took a trip in to the ER early Monday morning. The Doctor was just swell. The kind of guy that probably has elbow patches on his sweaters. Shops at LL Bean and all that. But those folks at the ER…. They told me to “keep my chin up buckeroooosey.” They gave me little white magic poop pills. And told me to drink mass quantities of Gatorade mixed with water. Do this for 3 days… and if you aren’t any better…. put on your worry face. Call us back.
Tomorrow will be 3 days. I am practicing my worry face. The magic poop pills aren’t working. I loathe & abhor Orange Gatorade. And I try HARD not to have vehemence for anything in my life. To top it all off…..? That big bad slam came when that cutey ER doctor said: No Caffeine. Zip. Nadda. No Coffee. No Diet Cokes.
WHHHHHAAAAAAaaaaaaatttttt? C’mon Man. What are you doing to me here? Is this some sort of Life-Test? Or a Right of Passage or something? (No pun there either) That’s like taking away my life blood.
I guess the upswing is… I’ve regained consciousness long enough to write this. To let you know that I still believe in magic. Even if it wasn’t in the form of those little white pills. (Hell, Jack bought the Magic Beans… oh …. but wait… it worked out for Jack.) Okay. Well. It is sort of like my message in a bottle then. I just need an intervention. Call Glenda…. or Tinkerbelle… or the Troll Under the Bridge. I don’t care. Mary Poppins.
I guess the fact of the matter is…. it will be over when it is over. Done when it is done. And. In the mean time… thanks for popping in …. to share in my delirium.