A Sick Post

by Bella Rum

My nose itches. H told me last night (a tinge of sarcasm noted) that life is always exciting with me, there’s always something new: swollen feet one day, a crusty nose the next. And of course, I always come up with gross diagnoses to entertain him. The internet is there for me. You can wander down it’s corridors, opening endless rows of doors to find horrifying diagnoses lurking within shadowy interiors.  For the swollen foot, I chose deep vein thrombosis/blood clot, and for my crusty nose, I picked MRSA.

MRSA – methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus, a bacterium that is highly resistant to methicillin, penicillin, and certain other antibiotics, and may cause infections of the skin, blood, lungs, etc. – dictionary.com

Just your everyday potentially seriously dangerous little antibiotic-resistant staph infection.

I’m sure that neither option is likely, but they are much more exciting than too much salt in the diet or sitting too long at the computer, or a sensitive nose that is tired of winter and dry heat. By the way, the swollen foot is no longer swollen. Its prehensile-like toes are as long and bony as ever. The nose is still in question, but it does not hurt, so I’m going with it until or unless I get a fever. Then it’s MRSA for sure, y’all.

Maybe I should look up hypochondria.

We started painting the kids room yesterday and should finish it today. I’m so behind on my Jan./Feb. projects. I usually roll them out one after another, but I was sick for over three weeks in Jan. with that awful thing. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. I haven’t even hung the pictures in the office, and I still have to find a large second-hand or antique piece for storage. There’s an empty wall waiting for it. 

On Thursday, after H relieved BJ’s of half its inventory, we drove over to take a look at a small walking trail at a nearby community college. It has a gravel trail that’s probably only about a mile long. Of course, you can walk it as many times as you want. It circles in-and-out and around a small patch of trees, and you end up back at the parking lot. It’s dotted with stations where you can stop and do various exercises if you wish and then move on. Some of them are harder than others. I have to start moving again. I will never get this exercise thing down. I’m so resistant to it, but I know I need it – blah, blah, blah.

Okay, I have to go scratch my nose now. But the feet are all good. I’m drinking tons of water and not sitting too long at the computer. That sitting is a bad thing. Sitting is the new smoking, they say.