OPEN UP AND SAY, “OUCH”

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If someone ever comes to you and says, “Hey, you want some pneumonia?” I highly recommend you decline.

I also highly recommend you get far away from that person, because let’s face it – that’s a really odd thing to stroll up and ask someone.

Nevertheless, having recently been diagnosed with pneumonia, I can safely say that I would prefer spending several days locked in a room listening to a Celine Dion/Yoko Ono duet marathon.

It all started last week when I woke up about three in the morning and could not breathe. Well, I could breathe, but every time I would take a breath, it felt like I was being stabbed in the back repeatedly. My breathing pattern was reduced to short, choppy breaths. Fortunately, I had attended a birthing class with my wife a couple of years ago, so I was prepared.

My wife woke up and asked me what was wrong. I replied, “Ack.” That was all I could get out. It hurt too bad to do anything else. Eventually, I endured the pain long enough to tell her what was wrong. We immediately came to one of two conclusions: (1) I had pulled a muscle – apparently a very important muscle – in my sleep or (2) I had been bitten by a spider. I know that #2 sounds odd, but it was three in the morning, so you can’t exactly be Dr. Koop.

So we decided that I had somehow pulled a muscle in my sleep, which was odd, since when I sleep, I look very similar to a parachutist whose chute has not opened. I rarely move, and it generally takes some motion to pull a muscle. My wife got a heating pad, and I maneuvered to find the least uncomfortable position possible. I decided I would endure the next few hours and go to my doctor, where he would no doubt give me some medicine to cure my problem.

By the time morning rolled around, another complication appeared, one not generally associated with pulled muscles. I had developed a fever, but not just any old fever. My wife considered cooking some bacon on me. And, since the human body has such a wonderful sense of humor, in addition to skin that was hot to the touch, I was also shivering uncontrollably.

I practically crawled into the doctor’s office. I was sitting in the waiting room, my hands tucked inside my shirt, teeth chattering, hunched over to one side, occasionally offering up a moan, just in case people didn’t know that I was on death’s door. I think I was scaring the other patients, because one of the office staff went ahead and had me come lie down in a backroom. Even in a doctor’s office, I was not good for business.

When my doctor came in, he looked at my chart. “Shooting pains. Fever of 103.6? You didn’t pull a muscle. It sounds like you’ve got pneumonia.” Apparently, this was a fairly easy diagnosis. The only way I could have made it easier was to come in complaining of a headache with an axe lodged in my skull.

He sent me to the hospital for chest x-rays, which my wife tells me went fine. I don’t know, because at this point, the fever had sent me to far away lands, and I was visiting with all kinds of interesting people who were not there.

When my wife got me home, I went straight to bed. As I was climbing into bed, I reminded my wife that I did not feel good. She stared at me for a second, wanting to probably knock me out with the lamp. My wife is excellent in these situations, and always takes very good care of me. But I am fairly sure I had told her about 72 billion times that I did not feel good, and even if I hadn’t, the moaning and wailing probably would have conveyed the message. Even in my semi-delusional state, I decided it would be best just to go to sleep, and not remind her again that I was sick.

After many hours of really freaky dreams, I woke up and realized my fever had broken. As I’m sure you all know, a high fever breaking is, at the same time, the most wonderful and most disgusting feeling in the world. Your eyes stop burning, your body stops shivering, and the aches go away. But, the downside – you’re lying in a big nasty bed o’ sweat. It’s like you’ve substituted your linens for John Goodman’s sauna towel.

I am on the mend now and am well on my way to a full recovery. Fortunately, I was only out of service for a few days. I have heard of people being out for weeks for this. That does not sound fun. But at least I am back to normal now, and can get back on with my life. I should probably go remind my wife that I was sick, though, just in case she forgot.