I have been very busy dying of the bubonic plague, or maybe the consumption, or some other awful, sweaty, choke-y death that's been extinct for at least a century.
That's why I started going to the doctor who never diagnoses me with anything, just prescribes a bunch of stuff and waits to see what will work. Okay, since he doesn't do any testing I might have to go back 3 times, and maybe he is making himself and the pharmaceutical company rich when he could probably save me about $100 by running a couple of simple tests. But at least this way I don't have to tell anyone I have whooping cough, and then have them say, "You can still get that? I didn't think people could get whooping cough anymore," like happened that one time I had whooping cough about three years ago.
This isn't whooping cough, but its not fun either. Except for the drugs. I've been watching Law and Order in a cough syrup daze for days. Law and Order is the perfect sick day show, because you doze and the episodes all run together, and it doesn't even really matter. Anyway, this is some kind of "kiddie illness," as my doctor tells me (through his amazing diagnostic process of...charging me $30 to test his psychic intuition) because of course it is. It makes perfect sense that since I don't have kids and I'm never around kids I should come up with an infection most likely to be passed around on the playgroud.
I'm back at work today, and this post should tell you what a bad idea that is. I have no idea what I just said.