January 03, 2009
Originally published February 28, 2003
I had a very uncomfortable week at work.
The weatherman lied to me every day since he guessed right on Monday, time was in some kind of cosmic flux and I didn't sleep worth a shit all week. I ate very little because nothing tasted good. My biorhythmns were all out of sinc.
I have to work again this weekend. I have "The Weekend Duty."
I've ALSO have a nagging sinus infection that's lasted for six months (snot drizzles out of my right nostril ALL THE TIME anymore in cold weather) in spite of all the antibiotics I've taken, and the headaches are becoming impressive enough to send me to the doctor if they get any worse. I NEVER go to the doctor unless I've reached the absolute end of my rope (ha, ha! I recovered from what I thought was an abcessed tooth on my own!) and I'm not there yet.
But something is wrong with me. The old bodkin ain't behaving correctly, and I notice that fact. I've been driving this bus for 51 years, and I know how it should handle. It ain't quite right anymore. I get dizzy and stumble when I haven't been drinking. I am short of breath when I'm sitting at my desk. But those brief episodes pass quickly and don't worry me enough to go see a doctor. At least not yet. I'm always fine ten minutes later. If there is anything seriously wrong with me now, I just don't want to know.
I still remember the last time I saw a doctor about something serious. THAT VISIT changed my life forever. I don't want to do that again. In fact, I WON'T do that again.
So, I'll go to work in the morning and worry about my maladies later. No, that's not correct. I quit worrying about maladies on July 13, 2001. Nothing could ever be worse than that day.
I'll just go to work tomorrow.
All content © Rob Smith