The Skillz Report

Too Sick To Sleep

 

(originally written 2/23/13)

 

 

A part of me isn't comfortable complaining about a stupid cough and sore throat when an acquaintance of mine suffered a real-live bullet wound less than 24 hours ago. But a greater part of me is in so much discomfort that any attempts at context die in infancy.

 

I have never, ever in my life had a cough or sore throat like this one—and this life completes its 33rd year in just four weeks.

 

It's one of those dry, hacking coughs one would execute if choking on gum. We were joined in holy agony three days ago. Divorce is nowhere on the horizon; two powerful syrups failed to impact anything except my wallet contents.

 

Thursday night (Friday morning), the resulting throat soreness—from which I've experienced only fleeting latency—became so unbearable that, for the first time ever, I had to rise from bed and patron the local pharmacy in seek of good ol' reliable Chloraseptic...only this time it did nothing, presumably because the coughs haven't let up.

 

Another trusted enforcer, Alka-Seltzer Flu, was rendered powerless.

 

Tonight (Friday night/Saturday morning), after another full day of hacking, soreness, and raspy, hoarse speaking, I turned to a dust magnet on my shelf out of desperation—a home remedy book. Said book recommended honey in hot water (fail) and gargling salt water (fail). After this experiment I parted with my stomach contents, but not the throat pain.

 

Once you go through three days of this, paranoia begins to set in. Is there something growing in my room that I'm sucking in? Doubtful; Josie's bed is right next to mine and she's fine. Which steers me toward: cancer. Do I possibly have lung cancer? No; despite what I perceive to be suffering, something tells me a tumor would pack a bigger punch than this.

 

What is most frustrating about this: from the neck down, and up, I feel perfectly fine. Not an issue to speak of. But here we are, 5:00 a.m., and I'm running on about two hours sleep because the neck itself refuses to settle. Luckily I do not have to work today, but there remains my daughter to take care of, and I can't go home sick from that (even though I kind of did once, in September 2010, after coming down with food poisoning. But I'm not here to talk about the past.)

 

It's gonna take a lotta Rockstar to get through this day.

 

Maybe I should pour salt and honey in that. Nothin' to lose, right?