Blue Roses

I'm not a hypochondriac. It's hard to be one when you're afraid of the doctor. But I suppose I have as many hypochondriac-like tendencies as the next person who has lost a loved one to cancer at a young age. Which is to say, I fucking freak out whenever I'm hit with some strange affliction that I wasn't expecting, but then I hide in my room and refuse to let my husband coerce me into going to my primary care physician. I just don't want to know, Doc. Save your sympathetic look and let me die of pleurisy in peace. Preferably on a chaise lounge, with my lap covered with a warm blanket, as I sit on a veranda overlooking a tranquil lake in the south of France.

So, as you can see I never give a second thought to any illness I may have contracted. But a couple of days ago the cough I had just gotten over came back. Along with the hacking cough (And the phlegm! Oh, the phlegm.) I'm extremely tired and I have lower back pain - which is different from the usual back pain I'm constantly plagued with. I know my body pretty well and this cough does not follow any predictable pattern of sickness that I've had in the past. After my last trip to the doctor, and how unconcerned she was with the illness that knocked me on my ass for a week, I'm not going back to have her ask me the same questions only to discount all my answers. I'd rather treat myself with plants I find in my backyard. I hear dandelion tea is good for what ails you. That's what my grandfather used to say. He's dead now, but still...

(Ooh, death humor. You're not laughing, are you? Thought so.)

I'm not going to go on, bitching and moaning about being sick, but have any of you had anything like this? Could this be allergies or something? I know as I get older (oh, how it pains me to say that. Older. Shudder.) I'm more susceptible to spring allergies and pollen. But, good lord, this cough is beating me down. Another day of this and I'm going to start sounding like Harvey Fierstein and I kind of need my voice to get through the day. My kid doesn't know the sign for "Take that nasty chew toy out of your mouth and give it back to the dog".

I'm starting to feel so poorly that I couldn't even care less about Roger Clemens, Anti-Christ. That should tell you how bad off I am right now.

I'm bypassing a visit to WebMD all together and going straight to my biggest source of information. You. You've helped me out in the past* so I have high hopes for this solution. No pressure, I'm just putting my life in your hands. That's all.

So, give it to me straight. How much longer do I have?


*Sorry for the poor follow-up. You guys gave me some great advice when I asked about what I should wear into the desert. At the hoe-down I passed on the cowboy hat and boots - a lot of others didn't, but they should have - and wore a cargo skirt from Banana Republic and a top from Target (bad picture. bad, bad picture). And wouldn't you know, the skirt kept me from being able to get my picture taken on the fake bucking bull. Aw, shucks.

The night of the dinner in the desert I wore flax colored linen pants and a silk top like this one (although, mine was had a brownish-grayish pattern). I was neither under dressed or over dressed. Oh, and I wore wedge heels. Screw the people who said that women should wear flat shoes. First of all, we weren't hiking in the freaking desert, we were sitting down for dinner. And second, you should have seen some of the heels that some of the other women wore. I don't know where the hell they thought they were going but from the imprints in the dirt you could see just where they had been.