Wednesday, December 2, 2009

DRIP AND DRIZZLE

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 what?"
"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.

20 comments:

Bonnie Zieman, M.Ed. said...

Now - this is different! I do not expect such brevity when I seek out the scribe. Usually one finds a cascade of words that flow like a river . . . Hope this is not an indication that you are still suffering from the flu . . .

Grizz………… said...

Bonnie…

Enjoy such brevity while you can. I've had friends tell me they always looked forward to my getting a loping good case of strep throat because they got such a kick from the unfamiliar silence.

By mouth, pen, or keyboard, I'm seldom brief.

Bonnie Zieman, M.Ed. said...

When I made my previous comment your post contained only three words: "Rain, drizzle, drip" - I think you have changed the title.
Anyway - glad to get the whole epistle!!

Sorry you have been feeling so miserable. Darn doctors who won't commiserate when we feel like we're about to die!!!

Lay low by the river until you're totally better! Don't you hate all the advice you get when you admit to being sick?

Raph G. Neckmann said...

Oh Grizzled, I'm sorry to read that you are unwell! I wish I could pop across and bring you some of my barley wine, that usually shifts anything! And keep warm - no feeding the ducks in shorts!!

Bernie said...

Feel better soon my friend, this bug is making it's way through blogland or at least many of my blog friends have it.....:-) Hugs

Grizz………… said...

Bonnie…

I did change the title. And apparently sent off the old one in the process. You may, of course, prefer the briefer "epistle."

I'm on the mend—I think—and even the eyes are doing better this evening. Your "lay low" suggestion would be great if this weren't the Christmas shopping season; I must get out there ASAP and fight for my right to overpay for gifts!

Grizz………… said...

Raph…

The duck will see no more of my legs for some time, I expect; it is getting colder here along the riverbank.

Somehow, I imagine barley wine might indeed shift anything.

Grizz………… said...

Bernie…

This is a wide-ranging bug, apparently. And I can tell you from personal experience that it is about as much fun as sticking a splinter under your fingernail. Lucky for you it isn't communicable over the Internet.

TheChicGeek said...

Hi Scribe :)
I'm glad you are feeling a little better. I think the doctor's right, 7 days should be much, much better soon!
I do so love the picture with this post. Amazing how many brilliant colors there are in nature! Best artwork in the world! I think this one is one of my favorites. You do leaves so well :)))

Sending you a get-well hug....and quickly washing myself of germs afterward...LOL

Rest and feel better soon! Stay cozy :)
Kelly

KGMom said...

You have a very smart doctor--doctors are frequently pressured to give their patients anti-biotics, even though most "bugs" are actually viruses that are impervious to anti-biotics. Meanwhile, we overmedicae and create superbugs.
Take the drink lots, sleep lots advices to heart. And keep a warm washcloth handy to help ungum your eyes.

Penny said...

I just hope your bug doesnt come across to Oz, but I am glad you are feeling better.
Those leaves are magic.

Grizz………… said...

Kelly (CG)…

I'm up (at 5:45 a.m.) and feeling lots better. Guess I was one of the 9-dayers. Eyes still something of a problem, though not nearly so bad as yesterday. But certainly getting there…thank God!

Rain can do amazing transformations to the colors (not to mention the sheen) of
the most common things. You wouldn't have given these leaves a second look without the rain and dark sky overhead—which, while you don't actually see it in the photo, changes the chromaticity, or kelvin units (color temperature) of the light itself and, in this case, really pops the scene. I shot this on about the last day for the leaves, when what few remained were being stripped off by the storm; afterwards, the trees were almost all bare.

I love shooting leaves, though I don't know why. But to me, they can be as pretty as flowers—and I think this photo shows some of that.

Grizz………… said...

KGMom…

You're right—and actually, I knew what the verdict was likely to be before I headed to the doctor. I always keep a round of two or three different antibiotics here at the house, and pretty much know when to use what. I never self-medicate without knowing exactly what I'm doing, knowing I do need an antibiotic and why, and which one I ought to take. Most years, however, I never use any of the prescriptions—simply discard and refill to stay fresh as needed…just in case.

I just wanted the doctor to confirm what I was already sure about—plus it was time for a checkup and I also wanted to get an H1N1 vaccination which the clinic had just gotten in. (I did…bring on the swine!)

I'm definitely on the upswing today.

Grizz………… said...

Penny…

I expect you're safe—from my bug, anyway. If you get sick from here on out, I didn't contribute!

Like I said, I think this leaf shot is one of my favorite photos of the year. They really are magic.

Carolyn H said...

Griz: Yikes! whatever it is you have sounds really nasty. I'm almost afraid to type at you for fear of getting it!

Carolyn H.

Grizz………… said...

Carolyn…

Up there on Roundtop—or in view of, which I guess is more accurate—I do believe you're safe.

And no, you do not want what I've had, trust me on that.

TheChicGeek said...

Awww, now I have the secret to a good picture....just douse my object with rain water and voila! Beautiful!
And I thought it was just me! LOL :)))
I am teasing you Scribe. Hope you're smiling :)

PS: I do love the way you shoot your leaves too. I agree they are equally as beautiful as flowers. I also loved the brown leaves you shot. Very special :)

Grizz………… said...

Kelly (CG)…

Spritzed water—or a liberal application with the garden hose—never looks real somehow…and a big part of good rain picture making is the color cast of the ambient light. But hey, who am I to tell a girl to forget that bucket of water when she picks up her camera?

I'm a great leaf photographer because unless the wind is blowing or the squirrels have overdosed on their morning Wheaties, leaves pretty much hold still and give me time to get my act together. Now there's the REAL secret! :-)

The Weaver of Grass said...

Poor you - sounds as though you got little sympathy from the doc. Hope you are soon well again.

Grizz………… said...

Weaver…

No sympathy whatsoever. I whined to the gals at the reception desk and the doctor, and would have whined to the clinic's janitor if I could have found him. But alas, my most pathetic whines fell on unsympathetic ears.