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Showing posts with label sick. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sick. Show all posts

Friday, November 29, 2013

The Fine Line Between Being Sick And Supporting Aquaman

OK, so I go to bed, hoping to get a good night’s sleep before a busy day.  15 minutes later, I know something is wrong.  Anxiety over who will be the next Bachelor? No.  Troubled over if Kayne and Kim’s son will run into trouble giving people directions? No.  Rather, I start to feel sick.  I visit WebMd on my phone to find out what’s wrong.
  • Trouble breathing
  • Feeling Disey
  • Tightness in chest
  • Search Results: Polio
OK, now something is really wrong.  I don’t want to wake my son who is sleeping on the floor, but I know I need to get to a bathroom.  I maneuver through the room like OJ Simpson used to go through airports in those Hertz commercials.

I drop to my knees in the hallway and crawl to the bathroom.  I lay my face right over the bowl and what do I pray for?
  • To get it over with?  No
  • To not get sick? No
  • That my arms are strong enough so I don’t plunge right into the water?  Yes.
I don’t get sick but now a dilemma.  Should I stay like this or should sit upright.  It was like my own Sophie’s choice.  Things are getting worse.  I am now sweating and am as white as a ghost…or as Richie Incognito.
 
I think I start to hallucinate.  Sweating, I start to wonder about random things:
  • Can I remember any of the Hanson “mmmmbop” brother’s names?
  • Who were those Menudo kids?
  • Will One Direction suffer the same fate?
I see some towels and put them on the floor thinking that I will just rest for a bit; mind you, half naked and on the cold tile of the bathroom.  I think I pass out for a bit because I wake up with my face pressed against the sink.

I think I meekly call out for help, but regret doing so as soon as I do it.  I mean, what will happen.  My kids will wake up, walk in to the bathroom and see their daddy lying on the tile.
  • Hi Daddy, what ya doing?
  • Call 911
  • Daddy, draw me a picture
  • Call 911
  • Daddy, who would win in a fight – The Hulk or Aquaman?
  • Call 91…wait what?  Are you kidding me?  How the heck do you think Aquaman will beat the Hulk?  Call 911
  • OK Daddy, Fine.  How do you spell 911?
Anyway, I make my way downstairs thinking I just need to lay down on a couch.  It’s cold and dark so I randomly pick up articles of clothing to keep me warm.  I pick up some socks for my feet and hands.  I pick up a jacket from the kitchen and go to lie down.  I am restless.  I catch a glimpse of me in the mirror with mismatched red, brown and green socks on my hands and feet and a pink jacket.  I looked like a deranged Elf from Chucky the killer doll’s shelf.

I toss and turn all night and finally my kids come see my on the couch.
  • Hi Daddy, can we have milk and waffles?
  • Oh guys, Daddy doesn’t feel well. 
  • OK, but um daddy um, can we have Waffles now?