Misery Doesn't Love Company

This will be an attempt to keep my whine factor at a minimum. It's also a warning. I am sick. My throat hurts, my feet stink and I don't love Elvis today. Every time I cough it feels like someone is cutting my throat. I anxiously await the next fix of Alka Selzter Cold Plus. It's mixed in warm water. The cold water hurts too much. The best thing to do when I am ill is stay away. My whining would grate on your last nerve. Wussie boy and wimp only begin to describe.

While on the subject, don't ever visit while I am hospitalized. Leave me to my misery. Please don't send flowers. They piss me off. Think about all that money you are spending to have beautiful plants murdered and sent to "cheer" someone up. Hell, send the money. I'll hang on to it. If survival is in the future we'll take the money and have a party. Believe me, the nurses, attendants, doctors, priests, rabbis and ministers will be in agony on my floor so if visiting someone else in the hospital stay away from my floor.

Now I am going to take my morning meds that should have been ingested 4 hours ago. Couldn't tolerate the swallowing at that time. Courage is not an operable word at the beach house today. May the Good Lord help me get down the medicines, keep them down, then lead me to bathroom salvation. Whine out.

“My illness is due to my doctor's insistence that I drink milk, a whitish fluid they force down helpless babies.”
W.C Fields