Plague of Biblical Proportions

The illness so bad I thought I was going to have to sacrifice something to the gods of wellness for obvious reasons.  Zero'd in on a neighbor's dog...now don't go all highbrow on me, thats my job...I am only kidding anyway,  it simply flew out of the fevered mind of a sick, dehydrated and really tired mommy and landed on an inconsiderate neighbor and the dog he lets crap on my yard.

Read on…

Most folks I meet seem to take themselves and what they have to say VERY seriously, this holds true for the women in my family.  When these women I speak of  are very serious about what they have to say, the diatribe will begin with the statement, “Let me tell you something”!  When you hear this, the stance you may be looking at from aforementioned women will be rock solid with both feet planted firmly on the ground (sitting or standing position) and will also include either a tilted head, a raised eyebrow (but only one) an index finger pointed at you, or with a merit ultra light hanging from the right side of the lip and a tumbler containing ice water and a flexible straw in hand, god rest my grandmother’s soul.  I, on the other hand rarely mean what I say in the serious tense so when I call the recent sickness to converge upon our home as the plague of biblical proportions, I am OF COURSE speaking tongue in cheek.  The funny thing about this is the way people takethat statement.  You can tell the religious affiliation of a person when you say this in front of them.  The catholic will smile painfully but feel guilty.  The Episcopalian laughs wholeheartedly, no guilt there.  The Methodist and Presbyterians will smile, ask you who your mother was before she was married and pray for you and finally, the southern Baptist, bless their hearts……crickets!  Raised southern Baptist, I am now Disciples of Christ, which is Christian although some folks seem to think it’s the kind of church you have to bring a live snake or chicken with you to service.  Not true and quite the opposite, we are merely a combination of affiliations gathering together for the common purpose.  We laugh, tell jokes, dance, wear short pants, we have been known to show our shoulders in church, some of us drink and we take communion at our seats with grape juice and wafers AND we willfully admit to all the above.

 Now back to the plague of biblical proportions, aka the doc Holiday hack, the death rattle, the snot rot, the disease to displease, puke fest 2010, and the Katmandu quickstep.  Just when I say “this is the sickest I have ever been” my body raises the bar.  I started out with the noro-virus, which kept me in the bathroom puking my guts out for 7 and a half hours followed by 4 days of the worst gas, bloating and cramps a human being can have without giving birth to an alien comprised primarily of excrement.  If I had ever thought of myself as a lady, believe you me this illness presented me with the hard fact THAT title does not nor will it ever apply to me.  I awakened on the 4^th day feeling as though my head had been hollowed out and filled with a cactus plant full of fire ants.  I could not smell, hear or see.  I stumbled to the bathroom, looked in the mirror and saw what appeared to be staring back at me as the face and hair of a crack whore.  My husband made me feel, well lets say better?  by saying  “No sweetheart, I have seen one of those up close and you are not her” Nice I thought, a beautiful exchange between me and the man legally bound to love me for better or worse AND in the process of doing so in sickness rather than health. To be clear and to clear the name of the most wonderful man on earth, I was ok with this because I know the crack whore of which he was speaking and there was definitely no crack of any kind shared between them...Jon is simply not that kind and you know, just say no and all.  I went in, got dressed, brushed my teeth (because I was sure my breath would turn a funeral procession quickly down an alley) and sped across town to the doctor.  I was told that not only did I have noro-virus I was also the proud owner of a double ear infection, pink eye in both eyes, a sinus infection, and a head cold.  I looked at her trying to help me without touching me and said Is that all?  To which she replied, Isn’t that enough Queenie?  I said "well for this week it is but I am guessing the antibiotic you are going to give me will be strong enough to cure Alaska of of its republicans so can you please give me some monostat to go along with it?  Because I have the feeling I am going to need it! (If you are reading this and don't understand... then you are either the dumbest female ever, to young to be here, or a man... and in the last case... don't ask)  I then went to the drug store and purchased all my prescriptions, gatoraide, pedilyte (in case the twins get it) ibuprophen, cough medicine, Sudafed, hard candy(because my throat felt like it had an asphalt highway being poured into it), cotton balls, water and some crackers.  My ears hurt so bad that I cracked open the ear drops and poured them into my ears before I left the parking lot, then drove home like a cow staring at a new gate with my head all  tilted to the side.  I did not even care that people were looking at me and trust me, they were! When I pulled into the garage I looked into the rear view mirror and there was that damn crack whore again…sunglasses perched on top of baseball cap, which was turned to the side with the bill pointing at the driver’s window. …think hip hop. 

My hair was matted to my head because shower?  No way, to sick.  I looked like someone you would see in the slammer magazine or on the smoking gun’s website. …think Nick Nolte mugshot!

  I am sure I smelled like someone you would find at your local DMV office.  I got home, went to bed and woke up hoping the next day would be better, nope still felt like shit.   

 

Who ya gon call..we needed help up in here….

 

I would not even allow the red cross or FEMA in this house for fear of a lawsuit but we needed help. We were low on supplies, my parents were sick with it also and the natives were getting restless so several days later in the jungle, mommy sent up a smoke signal in the form of an email to best friend.  She came to the rescue with groceries!  Left them on the front porch( as instructed) with a check slid through the door like payment for a drug drop…Quick, she’s gone now open the door get in the goods!  We may never see or hear from the outside world again so thank god for the cokes and cream of wheat and the best friend.  Just then a lady from our church called.  I answered the phone, which is something I am not good at even when I feel well...... she wanted to chat.  I did not! I listened as long as my patience would allow, which was about 2 minutes, then I said I am sorry but we are all sick and will not be at church to help with this item.  We will see you when we feel better, if that ever happens but I think we are dealing with the plague of biblical proportions here and I must go.  Silence from the church lady for a moment, then laughed then said feel better and hung up.  Perfect answer! I went back to bed. That brings me to the plague, the sacrifice and the dog.  Neighbor behind me walks his 10 pound dog several times a day.... and each time he lets the dog relieve himself in the same place in my yard.  I have wished death and dismemberment on this dog so many times that a sacrifice seems weak.  I was looking out the window wondering if anyone would miss me, if this affliction truly was a plague and everyone was dying and if I even had the energy to get better.  Then, walking up the street, comes the neighbor and the dog.  Yes the one who lets the little bastard crap in my yard several times a day.  There in lies the sacrifice....cannot kill the neighbor because I would never survive a trial or prison as badly as I was feeling.  SO just go after the dog....I thought of the bible (because God please help me I am so sick) then the plague ( locusts, sickness etc) then a sacrifice to the gods... in my case, the ones of wellness ( blood painted on the doors..passover and sparing those participants).  I  think you get the picture.  My mom called, I tried to verbalize this to her as a metaphor of how sick I was ..... she said "Let me tell you something, you shouldn't joke about such a thing."   I hung up the phone and crawled into bed.