Fever

      I cut step stringers dozens of times and never got any done.  Over and over again I visited with our neighbors about our well.  Many times I started to help the delivery driver unload the decking boards, wore out after a board or two and had to quit.

     Then I would wake up. Fever dreams.  I would doze off, and start on some other repetitious, unending job.

    The higher the peaks, the lower the valleys.

    I’ve been on some highs recently:  new grandson (first and only, to date), barbershop annual show.  Plus some stress in other facets of life.

     It’s a pretty deep valley when you are having fever dreams.

     Eventually, the thought enters your head that you won’t get any job done, ever.  Which jobs really matter?  Plenty of time to consider.  Nothing like a fever to help you prioritize.

     The fever lasted a week.  When I didn’t get over it last weekend, I resorted to medical advice on Monday.  After a blood test and a chest x-ray, the advice was, probably a virus, stick it out till Wednesday.  So home I went, where I put in the time taking Tylenol, eating (appetite not diminished, just didn’t need to eat all that much), drinking lots of liquids, reading when my burning eyeballs would allow, and napping (“to sleep, perchance to dream.  Ay!  There’s the rub,” to quote Hamlet).

      Then on Tuesday the clinic called.  Somebody else read the x-ray and determined I may possibly have a spot of pneumonia on my lower right lung.  So, a five day round of Azithromycin.  On Friday, I called the clinic to report, as requested, little or no result from the antibiotic.  The new advice, take prednisone, a steroid. 

      One job I had to get done was change the car’s oil.  I would have enough energy to do that, or I could spend my energy going to the drug store and doing other errands about town.  The Goodwife had several things to do, so she volunteered to make the trip.  That would warm up the car and I would have enough energy to change the oil when she returned.  

     It was about 11 a.m. when the clinic called to report I could pick up the pills.  The Goodwife left about 2:30 p.m. and returned about 4:30.  The prescription said take three tablets on day one.  That would be one about every two hours, so I put it off for Saturday.

     In the meantime, I realized I had gone nine hours without Tylenol.  Could it be?  Perhaps the virus diagnosis was accurate.  Put the steroids on hold.  I may want to play professional baseball or take up cycling.  Can’t have steroids showing up in my system!    

     So I may be on the mend.  No Tylenol for 24 hours.  Only an hour in bed on Saturday.  Maybe by next week I’ll have something worthwhile to say.