My wife, Kathy, and I had planned to spend New Year’s Day and the weekend leading up to the beginning of the new year with friends in Myrtle Beach. Our plans were to fly out of Nashville on Friday morning. But on Thursday evening I had an unexpected visitor. At first, I referred to my uninvited guest as “Mr. Virus,” but later I settled on the name, “Ms. Virus.” This turned out to be the “Mother” of all viruses I have encountered in my many years.
I should have seen it (her) coming. On Thursday morning I awoke with a slight headache, and then, experienced minor body aches throughout the day. By Thursday afternoon I knew something wasn’t “right.” The first hint of things to come presented itself as rumbling in my gut in the early evening. At precisely 10:00 PM, CDT my guest announced its arrival.
If I had fully realized what was coming, I would have acquired one of those backless hospital gowns and donned a pair of running shoes.
I kid you not. From 10:00PM until 5:00AM I was up and down (mostly down) every 10 to 15 minutes. It became a 7-hour marathon. When morning came, I was tempted to call my doctor and schedule my next colonoscopy - might as well kill two birds with one stone.
Needless-to-say, I took a break somewhere in the night and cancelled our flight to Myrtle Beach. I was in no “shape” to travel.
By mid-day Friday, I wrestled with the question of when and what should I try to eat. The rumbling in my gastrointestinal tract reminded me of summer storms I encountered in the Brim Hollow as a boy – times when the thunder would roll from one end of the hollow to the other, and then echo on and on among the hills.
Oh, and just in case you might wonder. Did I try Imodium? This virus laughed at Imodium.
I have always enjoyed good chicken soup, so I began with chicken broth – a lot of chicken broth, skipping the noodles. By day three I was sick of chicken soup. I may never eat chicken soup again. And my Lazy Boy recliner? I got sick of sitting in it, too. For three days I didn’t leave the house.
Stuck in my recliner, I watched endless, pointless college football bowl games. I mean, really, when will the madness end? How about these names for bowl games? – The Duke Mayonnaise Bowl, the Real Idaho Potato Bowl, and get this, The Pop Tart Bowl. While I was confined to the house and my recliner, I had time to think of possible names for future bowl games. How about the Tidy Bowl Bowl? or the Pepto Bismol Bowl, or the Charmin’ Bowl? Sorry! You can tell where my mind has been.
I must confess. By the time my favorite college football team, The University of Tennessee Volunteers, played on New Year’s Day, I was tired of football. But I made the best of the situation. Go Vols!
I have some dear friends who are facing much more serious health issues than my bout with a hot virus. So, I am not complaining. I am finding, as I grow older, that I don’t recover from health setbacks as quickly as I once did. I do, however, find I make a faster comeback when I can laugh about my situation.
As my old friend Zig Ziglar use to say, “He who laughs, lasts!”
Copyright 2024 by Jack McCall
