are you dead?

" Did the flu kill you?? Are you lying there, alone, with a high fever, the chills and maybe sepsis? Is there nobody to bathe your brow with a cold towel and bring you ice chips and chicken soup? Is it critical?"

That's my Anonydoc, trying to get a rise out of me. She knows just exactly what's up.

Dead, not yet. (The question reminds me of when Fields yells at his mother-in-law after he's accidently fired a pistol and she faints: "Did I kill ya?")

Yes, lying alone, yes high fever and chills, yeah I hope it's sepsis, then the anti biotics work, right? Otherwise I'm cured by seven to ten days of rest and miserable boredom. Rest in which I eventually work on the line, too ashamed to call in restless. Tomorrow's off anyway. Naturally.

I've come to realize how seldomly I'm actually bored. This last three days, it's like waiting for the next sleep trolley. I hate being up. TV gets stuck on a channel somehow, a Michael J. Fox movie I never heard of, and I just suffer through it. It's not drama, it's not comedy, what is it? Something...sentimental I guess. And everything is making me angry. I don't want to talk.

Had a dream, some astronomer was playing me a video tape of a planet far away, a little speck like the earth looks from pluto, and watch this, we know it's got life by the way. POW. Meteror hit. All those people dead so fast and far away but it got to me good. F'ng nightmare. For some reason I thought Michael J. Fox was one of 'em. I don't know. I was really sorry. It woke me up.