Cough, Cough

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In my post The Return of Diane, Muscato impertantly demands details about Diane’s visit claiming “We’re waiting. Certainly there’s enough depravity to recount by this point, no? After the weather we’ve had here this week, I could use a diversion…”  Tragically, there is no depravity to report; not just because I have turned into a fusty old thing, but mainly because I’ve been sick the whole time poor Diane’s been here.

I developed an interestingly wheezing cough the day she arrived.  I tried to blame her cat in Austin, implying she had imported dander to which I was allergic, but she pooh poohed that with a firm pooh pooh and before I could fabricate any kind of evidence supporting my theory, I was spiraling down an all-too familiar path into our old friend, bronchitis.

I’ve contracted bronchitis so many times that now when I call my doctor with my self diagnosis, he no longer questions me, but just sends a prescription for antibiotics and probably a short prayer of gratitude that I’m keeping my snotty infection out of his waiting room.

Believe me, this re-enactment couldn’t be any farther from the truth if it featured Bea Arthur and Carol Burnett.

The last few years I worked, I wound up with bronchitis each fall and then again at the tail end of every winter.  This, though, is the first time I’ve fallen for it since I retired, so yay for avoiding the filthy public and mass transit.

The only entertainments we’ve attempted have all wound up with me pathetically slumped over and coughing vigorously.  Still, the antibiotics have done their wonders and I’m pretty much recuperated tonight: unfortunately, tomorrow is Diane’s last day in town,  rats.

About mrpeenee

A former bon vivant and terror of a number of New Orleans bars in the mad, gay 1980s, I'm now quietly retired and widowed in San Francisco. I have a crooked nose due to an unfortunate Frisbee accident.

17 responses »

  1. “My dear doctor, I am surprised to hear you say that I am coughing very badly, as I have been practising all night.” – John Philpot Curran

    Get well soon! Jx

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  2. Poverino! I somehow feel resonsible – here I've been imagining scenes of cocktailiana and copious thrifting. Bronchitis is a horrible bore, and I'm only glad that the end is in sight.

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  3. I deplore anything that gives me “lung butter” . Remember what grandma would prescribe – slather your feet in Vicks Vapor rub, put on some heavy wool socks, get plenty of water and rest and don't swallow your phlegm. “Sputum in the tissues and the tissues in the bag.”

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  4. The only upside to this whole sad story is that Mr. P is doing much better (and kept me up too late last night while we tried to make up for lost time) and that it simply means that I'll be visiting again soon. Thrift stores, cooking together, and the beach can't continue to be neglected.

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