2 Feb 2009 :: Mama Said Knock You Out
Getting absolutely punished by sickness is sometimes a little more forgiving than taking the drug to cure it.
I've been a wee bit sick. Not enough to really complain. I cough, I hack and then I make the whole business cyclical and get back to coughing. My body's two favorite times to indulge itself in this fashion is in the morning, which adds the feature of large, nasty-tasting and looking compilations of mucus that could hide a quarter, to the rather mundane cough. Evenings I just cough. And cough. I get an epic fail for sleeping.
Last night I decided I would try out Nyquil so I can manage some shut eye. Of course, I go off-brand to save myself fifty cents and start self medicating. I crash.
I woke up this morning, which is dubious terminology for the experience because it was a fight just to get upright. I felt like I had been beset by ten of the finest gardeners in the world and their spades, after pulling out their Titan arum by the roots. I keep checking for loose teeth.
The feeling never went away. Not after my bowels starting gurgling and showing own anger at the poison masquerading as medicine. My punished body took alternative routing for the morning constitutional, resulting peeing out of an orifice not known for such activities.
If I start coughing tonight, I'm going to use it again. |
