Yep! Fairly certain my flu shot didn't have all the ingredients most had. Thinking mine must have been the last vile on the last shipment because my cart was in the ditch for about 3 days. Some of you reading have experienced one of Pharaoh's plagues and if you haven't please, celebrate life. How can you be that sick, hurt that bad and not need at least one band-aid? You know how it starts....nagy sore throat you say to yourself must be allergies. Few aches and pains, must have done to much..like that's going to happen. A little chill that requires a sweater, turn up the heat when no one is looking. Would really like to go bed-d-bye at 2 in the afternoon but you have company. As you carry on some kind of conversation you thoughts are wondering to the tune of 'if I were at your house I would go home'. Time comes when the house becomes yours again and you ditch that getting ready for bed routine and go straight for the Tylenol, socks, flannel gown, and an extra blanket on your side of the bed not wanting to draw attention to the fact you might not make it until morning. That kinda of conversation takes way to much energy and at that moment someone with a gun threatening to shot wouldn' budge you. As the night progresses you feel your body lying nude on an iceberg with not enough blankets in the free world to change the situation. If I could have recorded my dreams no doubt they would be a million dollar box office smash. Everything hurts, hair, fingernails, parts of the body you no longer have and some parts medical science has not identified. Okay Lord, all bases are covered ...have enough paintings to pave heaven, family is great, nothing more for me to do. Morning comes and toughing it out is no longer in the picture a call to the doctor requesting Cyndie had priority. About mid afternoon my Prince, 'the wind beneath my wings' that apparently stepped aside when I fell to this disease, appears with meds. My only request was a tuna salad and a boiled egg because I had drank enough chicken broth to fill my great grandsons wading pool...Seeming like hours since I had made my menu order. From the bed, I see a figure in the kitchen trying to make out this thing called a egg poacher/boiler and could be a bowl of something. Getting up with that Tim Conway shuffle made it to the area where food use to be stored. My Prince was trying to put together a tuna salad while getting eggs in the steamer. If my request had been something from the grill and a baked potato my wait would have been shorter. Watching the process..... I ask...'will that tuna be ready today?...forget the egg'....
Now the next morning meds had kicked in and opening my eyes thought I had a bad dream. Standing in the kitchen drinking my second gallon of water I spied my prescription on the counter......knowing then...no dream and I need to stay around to make tuna salad.......
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