As I foggily emerge from my flu-induced coma, it is becoming readily apparent that I have ruined Easter. And that’s pretty tough to do to a holiday that involves a lot of chocolate.
It all started last Saturday when I awoke at the crack of Dawn. I apologized to Dawn and excused myself as I left feeling Chipper. I then apologized to Chipper, and slowly devolved into a woozy state by lunchtime, which I should mention is not out of the ordinary for me every Saturday. Something was different this Saturday though. Maybe it was the throbbing headache, nausea, or painful black lung disease-like cough that I proudly owned. Perhaps it was the high fever that consumed me. I think the difference was that I knew I had caught a case of influenza from my daughter. Who knew that finishing up her bowl of cereal was a bad idea and that the flu could be passed orally?
I was confident that I was in too good of physical condition to have the flu affect me much. I would shrug off the flu like a telemarketing survey. By the time my wife hauled me and my daughter into the doctor’s office on Monday, I was a total mess, more corpse than man. My daughter was coming in for a follow-up visit, and had progressed nicely. Then my wife poured the gelatinous ooze that was left of me onto the exam table for the doctor to take a look at.
The doctor initially pulled the sheet over my head and declared that while there were things he could do, he really didn’t think they were worth doing. My wife agreed, and they began a lively discussion about making arrangements for “the body.” Once I realized whose body they were discussing, I blinked wildly in protest. “Autonomic nerve functions,” the doc reassured my wife. Fortunately, he decided to go through the motions and see if I could take a big breath. I could not, although it must have been been enough to convince the doc (not sure about my wife though) to try some Tamiflu on me.
I did find it somewhat pioneerish that we all went to the doctor together. I felt like asking the doc, “As long as we’re all here, how ’bout a nice bloodletting for my missus?” And you may be wondering why my wife was not stricken with the flu. She was wise enough to get a flu shot which actually worked. We have coughed all over her and she has repelled the flu germs like I repelled girls during high school.
The good news is that while I was in the throes of the flu, I came up with lots of new material. Some was just hilarious. None was written down. Because of that, I can’t be certain if the material was actually priceless, or if that was the fever talking. I just know that I am staring at a deadline looming for an Easter-themed Mite Be Funny cartoon with no ideas now. Oh fever, whither art thou?
As for Easter itself, we were hosting the family this year at our place, but now we’re not … because of me. I have ruined Easter. It will just be me, my wife and the kids, possibly not even all of them. I was expecting my wife to be more upset, but she seems quite relieved. No big meal to plan. No challenging relatives to accommodate. No house needing to be made immaculate. No weather worries. Maybe I just gave my wife the best damn Easter present ever. She’s welcome!
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