I have a cold, or a sinus infection, or influenza, or the Bubonic Plague, or some sort of nasty germ facilitated by the North Koreans to fell Trump haters. Okay, just listen to my reasoning before you protest that Dear Leader hates ALL Americans and wants to get rid of ol’ Orangutan Buttface. I actually think that Kim-Un Bowl Cut likes the fact that the US has a demented old fuckface running the show over here because it makes him seem less crazy. He therefore wants to see Trump Resisters burn, like so much kindling at a campfire. The antics of 45 are a shit show that the rest of the world watches with grim fascination. It’s like the show “My 600-Lb Life”. (Or The Teletubbies.) You want to look away. You just can’t.
Anyway, I am sick.
This isn’t a big shock to me or to anyone who knows me. I have a bad spleen and infections and viruses gravitate toward me like a screw to a magnet. Working out in the public has always been perilous for me because I can’t fight off the plague like others. Working in a refrigerated environment was actually a plus because no one wanted to come back and see me until the summer time, when cold and flu season was over. Now, I work from home, cutting out my interactions with humans to only those I choose to expose myself to. When others are ill, I avoid them. (Like the plague, har-har-har!) Nevertheless, sometimes, I am exposed to germs when I go to the store or spend time out of my hobbit hole. This was the case over the holidays, when it was easier to go to the kids than to make the kids come to me. Unfortunately, kids are around lots of other kids and no one can vouch for good hygiene of kids that aren’t their own. Lots of parents send their kids to school sick. We all know what a seething petri dish of disease schools are, and no matter how hard we try, invariably a germ or two will make its way home on a kid. I could have caught an errant germ from a grandchild, or one of my children, or from the cashier at Aldi. One could have jumped on board The Male Sibling Unit at work and he may have shaken it loose onto me when he got home. The point is, when I get sick, I fucking do it right. I don’t just get one symptom, or two; I get all the symptoms. Sore throat, coughing, nasal congestion, sneezing 6-fucking-thousand-times-in-a-row, body aches, fever, headache. When one symptom appears, I grab the cold meds stat and walk around in a medicated haze, hoping to head the rest off at the pass. Vitamins, holistic medicines…none of these will fix my spleen, which has been enlarged and inflamed not once, but 3 times due to mononucleosis. You’re only supposed to get that once, but I guess once was not enough for me, greedy Taurus bitch that I am.
This time, I was trying to recover from an awful menopausal migraine, so the Plague snuck in before I could throw a Nyquil bomb at it. Now, I am not only taking Nyquil, but Dayquil, and aspirin, and using my little inhaler, and drinking tea, and trying to stay warm during a polar bombogenesis. Hahaha! I used that word in a sentence! I am actually happy to be running a fever, because at least I am sweating in -25° wind chills. Through the haze of medicinal fog, I am attempting to blog because I have important shit to say. This will either be the greatest writing I have ever accomplished or it will be a complete fuck-off.
This is what I need to tell you:
Seriously. It’s as simple as that. Look, I am not whining about being sick. It’s inconvenient and unpleasant as hell and I would rather not be sick at all, but I understand that it happens. I am more susceptible and I have to proceed through this life with that caution in my head. I am not, however, a compromised individual, like an elderly person, an infant, or someone with an autoimmune disease that leaves them more vulnerable to disease because their condition has worn them down. I am not a cancer patient fighting for her life, undergoing chemo or radiation, leaving my system completely open to even the mildest cold germ out there. How do you know? It’s simple: You don’t. And if you’re like me, and you dread getting sick (and if you don’t dread getting sick, then I think you already are) then why wouldn’t you want to prevent germs from spreading?
There you go. The Chain of Infection. If you’ve ever worked in healthcare, this gets drummed into your head on the first day of infectious diseases class. The CDC explains it like this:
We could get all scientific in explaining this but fuck that, I have a fever and I’m starting to get sleepy. The bottom line is that you need to BREAK the chain of infection. There are lots of ways; if you’re sick, don’t go to work or be around others. If your kid gets sick, don’t send them to school. Some of you will scoff and say, “A little sniffles never hurt anyone!” I don’t like you people; let’s just get that straight. You are not only the problem, but you’re probably germy and diseased as fuck and stay the hell away from me.
A great many more of you, however, will say, “I don’t get sick days” or “I will get in trouble with my boss” or “I can’t afford to lose even a day’s pay”. You people? I like you. I feel you. And I don’t have any answers that will fix these problems because they are a nationwide problem and one that seems to be unique to this country. Kind of like the bloviating Tang-hued baby-man who inhabits the Oval Office. It’s a problem we need to fix, but no one has quite figure out how yet.
Again, that’s why I say this:
If you break one of the links in the chain of infection, you neutralize the infection. You isolate it to the source. The simple way to break the chain is not to throw a gauzy, crocheted shawl around your shoulders and twirl like Stevie Nicks, but to wash your hands. The former sounds more theatrical, but the latter is more realistic.
I know, you’re gonna say, “I always wash my hands!” Well, good for you. Send me your address and I’ll mail you a gold star on a little bottle of hand sanitizer. Because that stuff also works well, especially if there’s no water readily available. But guess what? Not everyone does. In the last two weeks alone, I have been in two public restrooms, with a single other occupant, and again, guess what? I have heard the toilet flush, the stall door fly open, and on both occasions, some dirty, germy bitch walked right out of the restroom without washing her hands. On both occasions, I wanted to just gtfo without shopping because who knows where she went or what she touched? Sure, maybe both times, this hands non-washer had a little bottle of hand sanitizer in her purse, which she then used. But I don’t think so. Dirty, germy bitch.
So, please, take this advice. Be a part of the solution. Look, we can’t stop the Large, Orange Turd from germinating all over the Presidency, but we can stop each other from germinating all over each other. Being sick is not like Coco Chanel, looking all Scarlett O’Hara in her boudoir:
It’s more like this;
I’m going to go to sleep now. I have nothing more to say. Auf Wiedersehen, and geshundheit.