It started Monday with a slight sense of “something ain’t quite right here, Kemosabe.”

My cousin, Jeff, was visiting from Nevada and I took him with me to the MADD ceremony Monday night, as I was on duty for the newspaper this week. By the end of the evening, I started noticing a slight twang in my breathing. You know, a twang. Like when a country guitarist hits the top E string in such a way as it reverberates dully and oddly. It was accompanied by a sharpness in my throat.

By Tuesday morning, I was certain I was coming down with some sort of bug. By noon, a freight train had materialized out of nowhere from behind my desk, ran me over and left me sitting in my office chair a broken, aching mess.

I took the afternoon off and slept it away before the Franklin City Council meeting that night. That’s also why you might have missed a column Wednesday, in case anybody noticed.

Armed with Dayquil and Nyquil, I faced my sickness with courage and resolve. I downed a Nyquil when I got home that afternoon and crashed. As usual, I had bizarre dreams. I always dream crazy when I’m sick. Fact of the matter is, I rarely remember my dreams under normal circumstances, odd for an Indian man, I know. Just another thing I’m deprived of by the cowboy genes running roughshod over my DNA, firing Winchesters into my double helix.

But Tuesday afternoon as I lay sweating and freezing all at the same time, I dreamed I was in a sweat lodge and trying desperately to get out. Part of this has to do with my aversion to the notion of sweat lodges, traditional as they may be. I have turned down many invitations from acquaintances and close family for my own reasons. But in the dream, I was trying to find the flap to get the heck out of there, and awoke in a sweat, while trembling with chills.

I took two doses of Dayquil to make it through the Franklin meeting, knowing that my coughing fits would probably have been distracting to the television audience watching the meeting and I’d likely be asked to leave. Getting asked to leave a Franklin City Council meeting is a lifelong dream of mine, and if it ever happened I’d be tempted to oblige, but there’s that damn Sunshine law and first amendment thing I have to uphold. It’s a tough job.

Now, since I had to cover a meeting, I was obliged to go in and do a story the next morning. So I hauled my sorry behind into work and managed to survive. It’s difficult when it feels like someone has stuck an air compressor nozzle into your ear and is inflating your face to the point where it is about to blow off. Add to that, anytime I blinked, that split second of closing my eyes made me fall asleep. It was a long morning.

Spent the rest of the day in fugue, a haze of medication, onerous viruses and fantastic dreamscapes. Wednesday’s dreams included various items from the news: The Wizard of Oz was being remade, starring Paris Hilton as Dorothy, Harry Reid as the Cowardly Lion, Nancy Pelosi as the Wicked Witch and The Great and Powerful Oz was none other than Bobby Jindal. Toto would be portrayed by Hillary Clinton.

By Thursday the pressure was gone in my face, leaving my features mostly intact, though I think my nose grew a little. All that’s left of my illness is a nagging cough and sinus thingy that’s about to drive me crazy. That and very little gumption. I get tired pretty quick. I had a Baldwin meeting Thursday, and crashed pretty hard before it, but had no dreams that I can recall. That’s how I knew I was on the mend.

“You didn’t get your flu shot?” someone asked me, and of course, I didn’t. Number one, I hate needles. I was rather sickly as a child, and I got poked and stuck enough for a lifetime. Second, I don’t trust those dang things. What doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger, anyway. That’s what the old folks used to say.

So here it is, Friday morning, and I’m trying to recover. Just writing this was exhausting, and I fell asleep three times. From the sickness, you understand. Not because I was boring even myself.

Have a great weekend.

1 comment to Ugh

  • Gordon Bryson

    Yes, I did miss your Wednesday column. Glad to hear you’re on the mend now. Take it easy this weekend and get ready for Thanksgiving. You having any Pilgrims over for dinner?LOL.

    Take care my friend, gordon

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