The Cuckoo Has the Flu In the Nest

I am fighting a case of the flu.

I can’t be certain that it actually is the flu, but since I have the internet, I have researched my symptoms, and now I feel qualified to self diagnose. I have ruled out pregnancy and diphtheria.

Someone, (I won’t mention any names, but it starts with the letter “H”(ubby), was sick last week, and he was gung ho to share his malady with me. His doctor prescribed antibiotics for him, but I decided to avoid the clinic. It’s a hot bed of disease and sick people, and I can’t take any chances in my weakened state. Self medicating is my only option, and with my choice of meds, (copious amounts of hot tea and honey with plenty of rum), I plan to drink the living daylights out of this thing.

Our anniversary was last week, and this year, hubby gave me his flu bug, the gift that just keeps on giving, and a dose of the scoots to go along with my nausea and sweats. We’ve been married for forty three years, and I’m telling you, that gift’s right up there with the red ‘trap door’ long underwear I once got for Christmas. This isn’t a good time for me to be ill, not that there’s ever a good time. We have a company function on Saturday, and I can see myself jumping up from the table every five minutes to run to the biffy. It’s a good way to impress the boss. I can only hope that there’s no line up, and pray that I won’t get the cubicle with an empty paper roll. I could be trapped there for days.

I hate to turn down a free meal, since eating is my secondary hobby. I’d also hate to miss out on fine food, served by people without pimples. But, just thinking of going gives me another bout of the chills and sweats. This is worse than having hot flashes. At least those I could predict to a certain degree. They’d show up just before bed, and hang around all night inspiring an epic game of “kick the covers”. I’m sweating right now like someone being grilled by the FBI, and I’m trembling like they’re going to pull the switch any moment. I’d better regroup and come up with another attack plan, or I’ll be home watching “Dateline”, while everyone else is eating herb roasted chicken and risotto.

I’ve decided that I’m going to take those antibiotics the surgeon prescribed for me after my gall bladder operation. They were given to me in case of an infection. Cindy thinks they won’t do any good, since I probably have a virus and not an infection, and I’ll only succeed in spawning a super bug that will take over the world. Right about here and now, I’m willing to take that chance. So, it’s a dose of dubious antibiotics, and another day of laying on the couch in a near comatose state, watching reruns of old western movies. I just occurred to me that when I get the flu, no one seems to take the credit. But, when other people get it, we all know who they get it from. Me, of course! So, if you get the flu next week, you’ll know you got it from reading this.

Author Val Enders resides in Spruce Grove, Alberta. She married her high school sweetheart, Richard, and they’ve been together for over 40 years. Val doesn’t consider herself a writer by profession, rather she writes more for her own enjoyment. An accomplished artist, Val’s a member of the Allied Arts Council of Spruce Grove. Visit Val’s “Journey Into Art” website at www.vals.webs.com