Chase Swine With Swine

I've been feeling like absolute crap lately. For about a week-and-a-half, I have had this kind of icky, fluish feeling accompanied by all over body aches, which makes it hard to get anything done, because one minute I'm all Well, I'll just start in on writing the greatest novel of our era and the next I'm all preoccupied with the fact that I EVEN ACHE BETWEEN MY TOES.

This body ache is ridiculous. When I wake up in the morning and haven't taken pain killers in the last eight hours, even the roof of my mouth hurts, and I know that I am doing a lot of complaining here, but I get pretty pissy about things like drinking water being painful. I just read an article in Harper's Magazine about these captives in some jungle who were forced to play soccer in bare feet with 14-pound rocks to amuse their captors, and so I have been made very aware of how my relatively cushy life has lead me to believe that being a touch uncomfortable for a while has handicapped my ability to do anything but complain about my being a touch uncomfortable, so, basically, I'm kind of an asshole for spending all this time telling you about how I have to take ibuprofen because I have caught a relatively mild strain of what is likely the swine flu.

I don't know for sure if I have the swine flu, but I went to the doctor to make an appointment for a physical examination, and she asked me some questions and ordered some blood tests to check up on my iron, B12, and thryoid levels, and then she threw in a test for my white blood cell count, which makes my brain leap to all sorts of horrible conclusions, because when I was a kid in the 1980s, AIDS came onto the scene like this terrifying spectre, and everyone was hearing about low white blood cell counts all over the place. Not that I think I have AIDS, because it's been a lot of years since I had sex with anyone aside from the Palinode, and that one high-risk incident with the tattooed, body piercinged, ex-male-prostitute-junkie was so long ago that I'm well through that window period of not knowing. Also, I was tested after that when this lady at a blood donor drive asked me a lot of questions about my health and then looked really horrified at my answers and told me that there was no way I could give blood for like two years and that maybe I should go get tested, which I did, because it was only then that it dawned on me how stupid I'd been.

ANYWAY, when my doctor said she was going to test my white blood cell count, my mind went Sweet jeebus, I've either got leukemia or swine flu!, because ever since I went through my bit with cancer two years ago, every new mole, slight cough, or extra grey hair is possibly a sign of the impending apocalypse of my corporeality. So, I'm leaning toward swine flu with a touch of over-privilege.

I have this diet I sometimes follow which I call the Chase Fat With Fat Diet, in which I believe that eating lots of fat convinces my love handles that they don't have to hourde fat anymore because they're in no danger of running out of the stuff, because every time I've tried to have a low fat diet, I've bloated up like a puffer fish. I'm thinking that maybe this theory of mine could transfer over to swine flu as the Chase Swine With Swine Diet, so I'm heading out to eat some barbecue pork on rice noodles with pork spring rolls and maybe a chaser of bacon. Oink.

Grace In Small Things: Part 203 of 365

Grace In Small Things: Part 202 of 365