I can see clearly now. Both my eyes are beginning to look at the same object at the same time.

I wanted to call in sick the other day. But I couldn’t. I’m retired.

I’m one of those lucky guys that hardly ever get sick or feel under the weather. But not the last few days.

It all started with a visit to my doctor’s this past Tuesday. Tuesday I was feeling great. Not a care in the world, except I had to go in for my semi-annual checkup to keep prescriptions active. I had called the office a couple months ago to get my meds refilled. The usual for folks my age; Blood pressure, Type two diabetic meds, reflux capsules, cholesterol, etc. The doctor’s online portal informed me they would refill them, but I was due for a wellness exam in September, so that’s why I was at the doctor’s this past week.

I arrived early so I would beat the crowd and slip in and out of the office quickly.

There were nine patients standing at the door when I drove up. That should have been a sign to turn around and go home, but I didn’t. I had fasted and I wasn’t going to waste a good fast. So I waited in line. While standing there, a young lady walked up and stepped in front of me. I felt my blood pressure rise. But I kept quiet, bit my lip and said nothing. After all, it was just one more person, and she may have had an appointment or actually been sick. Her eyes were red and she was sniffling.

Someone unlocked the door and we all filed into the room and signed in. By the time I signed the register and took a seat the room was packed. I thought to myself, This isn’t good. I should just leave. But I reminded myself that I had fasted, and I wasn’t going to ruin a good fast.

I sat there looking around the room. Kids were hacking and sniffing. Men and women appeared to be sick and miserable. Still, I waited.

Don’t touch the armrest, I told myself. Don’t touch the magazines. Don’t breathe. My solace was knowing I was healthy and rarely ever got sick. Good genes, I told myself.

After an hour of quarantining myself on what looked like the healthiest side of the room, I heard my name called. Thank you, Lord.

After a few minutes a nurse practitioner came in the room with a trainee in tow. I told her why I was there and she asked all the usual twenty questions. She listened to my lungs, my heart and charted all the information before sending me next-door for lab work.

After it was all over and done I walked outside and took a deep breath. I had made it. I felt good.

Wednesday night after taking Spanky outside for the last pee of the day I came back inside with the sniffles. It’s the Angel Trumpet plant, I told myself. It blooms in the evening hours and fills the night air with a magnificent fragrance. Sometimes to the point that it is overpowering.

By the time I crawled into bed my nose was running. But I could still breathe through both nostrils. I dozed off knowing I’d be fine when I arose this morning.

Wrong.

I awoke at three with a scratchy throat. I brushed it off, thinking I’d been snoring. It’ll be gone come daylight, I told myself. At seven it was worse when I crawled out of bed. Coffee with help, I told myself. And it did help a tad. But not completely.

By noon my nose had probably dripped a gallon. Tissues were piling up in the trash can. Things were getting serious. I called my wife. My wife knows everything. There are some little yellow pills in the cabinet for that, she said. Find them and take one. It’ll dry you up. I couldn’t find them. I could hardly focus on the tiny writing on the labels. So I sat back down. I’ll just tough it out.

An hour later I called her at work again. Can I take the red ones? I can’t find the yellow ones. I think the red ones are what I need. Doctor Tina said, No, the red ones will knock you out. Remember what happened a couple years ago? I remembered. Two years ago I nearly died when I mixed a cocktail of wrong medicines together. I ended up in the ER getting fluids pumped into me to dilute the combination of Benadryl, Hic-up pills, and whatever else I had taken that morning. I didn’t want to do that again.

Finally, I found something that said it was for runny noses and scratchy throats. I took one. About an hour later it was as if someone had turned a faucet off, but I felt like someone had packed cotton up my sinuses and poured salt in my eyes. Netflix was out of the question.

Friday was no better. I had a fever and slept in the recliner all day. My faithful dog, Spanky stayed at my feet.

By Saturday I felt as if the angel of death had passed over our house. Tina must have painted our door lintels with the blood of a first-born lamb or something. Or else Dr. Woodford and his honey mixture the night before had killed the virus.

This morning I can see clearly. Almost breathe through my nose, stand erect and walk a straight line. I am grateful.

Probably more so than I was a week ago. For you see, I have read other friend’s post. I’ve read about a classmate’s son who was shot in the head down in Mississippi while serving his community. His momma-bear is very worried about him. His situation is grave.

I read about another old friend whose son was in a terrible wreck weeks ago and is fighting for his life. Hopefully, tomorrow he will be strong enough for the first of many surgeries to come.

I read about a friend who was a caregiver for her father. He passed away this past week. I can only try to imagine her loneliness as she begins to fill her days by herself.

I think about one of my daughters that battles MS every day, no hope for a cure. A friend who had a hip replacement surgery, a friend who had his knee replaced, a young man that went in for knee surgery and had a stroke.

Yes. I can see clearly now. My few days of sniffles and fever were nothing compared to what some people have faced or are facing every day.

Every single day is a gift. I’m going to enjoy this day, and I hope you do the same. While you’re doing it, say a prayer for the folks I’ve mentioned. And say a prayer for those around you, too.

There will be a better day. It’s coming for all of us. I just know it is.

_______________
Rick Algood
September 15, 2019