Sunday, August 17, 2008

Written with great bitterness

I am finally struggling to my feet after being knocked flat by bronchitis almost four weeks ago. My cough has subsided to the point that I only feel like I am coughing up mucus rather than my pancreas. Two weeks into the illness, I was wracked by coughing paroxysms and got pain in my left ribcage that felt just like someone had taken a blunt screwdriver and wedged it between my ribs. That was manageable until during another round of coughing, I felt something pop and then felt like I had been kicked hard in the ribcage by a water buffalo. Even though the cough reflex was taunting me to "Cough. Just do it. It will feel good. That mucus needs to come up. It can't hang around here forever," my body refused to allow sufficient expansion of my chest due to the excruciating pain. As a result, I would produce these tiny little expulsions of air that sounded like a gerbil on helium trying to clear his throat. My debilitating pain was apparently outweighed by the sheer comic value of this sound and my loved ones allowed themselves the luxury of hearty rib-expanding guffaws, Molly's pregnant abdomen heaving with each roar, while I writhed around in agony. Heaven forbid you are ever stabbed to death in front of my family in a way that sends spurts of blood SHOOTING SO FAR IT'S HILARIOUS.

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