Currently here along the riverbank, it's raining cats and dogs out…or more accurately kittens and puppies—for the falling rain has not been heavy, though it has been steady. A drip and drizzle that began early this morning and as has continued all day. Not enough to discolor the river, let alone start it to rising, though you never can tell what happened upstream; that answer will be more apparent with tomorrow's first morning look.
Which may be problematic given my current state.
As most of you know, seeing as how I've whined and moaned at every opportunity, for more than a week I've been laid miserably low with some sort of vile bug. Swine flu? Hoof and mouth? Or what my Uncle Don used to refer to as the droopin' 'druthers…as in "I shore am droopin' and I'd 'druther feel better."
Seeking answers, relief, and a measure of professional sympathy, I went to see my favorite doctor—a fine fellow with whom I share the same birthday date, and a physician as prone to dispensing laughter and joy as writing a prescription. He would get to the bottom of things forthwith. After checking blood pressure (119/62), temperature (98.1), looking in ears ("Huh, I think I see light coming through from the other side…"), nose ("Not smelling much, I bet."), and throat (Say ahhhhh…ooooh, that looks sore!"), he poked and prodded, and listened to whatever stations he could pick up by meshing that ice-cold stethoscope resonator repeatedly to my chest, front and back. "Your lungs are clear," he said. "No need for antibiotics."
"Well, I feel God-awful bad," I said. "What's that from?"
"Some kind of bug. I'm seeing lots of people with the same symptoms—only most are also experiencing discharge in their eyes."
"I had that, too, this morning," I said, "in my right eye. Nasty looking stuff that had it almost matted shut."
"Yup," said my unsympathetic medical guru. "Nothing to worry about."
"So what do I do?"
"About how bad I feel!"
"Rest, take Tylenol, drink lots of liquids—and if the eye mats shut again, wash it out." Seeing my look, and perhaps fearing I might hold a grudge and fail to wish him 'Happy Birthday' come next May, the good doctor grinned. "I'm not a miracle worker. You have a bug, and while you may feel like you're going to die, you probably won't. These things just have to run their course. Seven to ten days."
"This is already day seven," I said.
"Good. Relief should be just around the corner."
"So I just button my shirt, and my mouth, stagger out of here, drive myself home, and take to my possible deathbed until I feel better?"
My old pal the doctor nodded. "Yup. Pay your co-pay before you stagger out, though. But call me and come back in if you get something I can treat; I love a medical challenge."
And so that's what I'm doing. And the truth is, I feel a lot better today…except the eye discharge got worse yesterday evening, and by this morning, had spread to both eyes. Yellowish slime that dried on my cheeks, matted my eyes shut, and precluded me wearing my contact lenses—which pretty much precluded that I might see anything smaller than a brontosaurus standing beyond my windows, even when I had washed my eyes out to the point where light could squoosh its way to my retinas. It also precluded cooking, reading, and fiddling on the computer.
But, I'm feeling better and the eye discharge mess has finally subsided to the point where I can read and feed myself and log onto the blog if I scoot close and put my nose almost on the screen (no contact lenses yet); hence this post and the recent answers to your comments.
So that's my report. Except to say the photo was not taken today, but it was taken in the rain a few weeks ago, and is of leaves newly fallen on the ground just beyond the deck. It is one of my favorites of the entire year.