The Last Flu-zie on Earth

I have Influenza Type A. Yes, I am the last person in Indiana, United States, Planet Earth, Our Solar System to get this crud. Last weekend I thought I had a head cold. My husband gently insisted I see a doctor because I have one of those dag-blasted compromised immune systems.

At the doctor’s office, the nurse stuck giant Q-tips in my nostrils. Frankly, that has not been the highlight of my week. The nurse said that despite the lateness of the season, the doctor recommended checking me for the flu.

I was very surprised when the doctor came in dressed like she a detective in “The Andromeda Strain,” masked like the Lone Ranger. (I’m hepped up on Tamiflu, forgive the mixed metaphor.)

She immediately sent me home. Seriously, I had to walk past Bernice, the person who collects the money in the doctor’s office. I was not allowed to talk with Bernice, so I knew this was serious. And I knew they also have my address, and a bill will appear forthwith. (See, the drugs are getting to me when I use the word forthwith.)

My husband picked up the Tamiflu for me, and one for himself. My doctor insisted my husband call his doctor for the same stuff. I also started taking another popular drug, represented in the media by a huge, green ball of talking snot. (Or am I the only one seeing this?  It is a huge, green ball of talking snot, right?)

The talking-ball-of-snot drug dried up my head quicker than an Indiana corn dryer at harvest.  I think the other one is working, as I appear to be walking away from the light.

The goal here was to make sure I did not get pneumonia because I’m at risk due to my compromised immune system. (If I ever start a rock band, I’m going to call it Bullwinkle and the Compromised Immune System. A few of our songs, “You Dry Me Up,” “Good Old Snotty Top,” and “Mama’s Got a Humidifier, Daddy Can’t Sleep at Night.”)

So I’ve had nothing to do all week, except yell at Sarah Huckabee Sanders, watch reruns of “The Andy Griffith Show,” attempt to write a coherent sentence, and read social media.

For some stupid reason (see foggy head in the dictionary) I posted of my illness on that dag-blasted social media and here’s one of the back-and-forthwiths:

· May 8 at 12:45pm ·
Me: From a Connecticut newspaper: The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention have revealed that this year’s vaccine was only 25 percent effective against preventing type A H3N2 viruses — which was the most prevalent virus for much of this season — though it was more effective against other strains of flu, and 36 percent effective on average.
Why did I post this? Husband made me go to the doctor today for my “head cold.” Turns out it was Influenza A, and I’m now on House Arrest. Because of my lung situation, this is not a nice development, so please light some candles and say some prayers and send good juju.

College Friend: Late in the season for flu – I had my bout back in January, and I did get a flu shot! And stay away from Tamiflu – it has very bad side effects. Push fluids and rest – use your oxygen and binge watch whatever you want.
· Reply · 1d · Edited

Me: Been on it all week. No side effects noted. Am going to go and read the package insert. You made me curious.
· Reply · 23h
College Friend: Amy Abbott, you would have experienced any side effects by now – and basically, if you don’t start Tamiflu with 48 hours of your flu symptoms you are pretty much wasting your money on it, as it isn’t effective in reducing the severity or your symptoms unless you start it within the first couple of days.
· Reply · 3h
College Friend: But if you are suddenly overwhelmed by a homicidal urge towards a loved one, it could be the Tamiflu…
· Reply · 3h
Me: I did.
· Reply · 3h
College Friend: You did…start the Tamiflu within 48 hours? Or have homicidal urges towards a loved one? Or both??
· Reply · 3h
Me: Tamiflu as did husband. No homicidal urges today.

Everybody’s a critic, right? So, in summary, I am walking away from the light, I’ve started talking like a real country girl (and I don’t mean Grace Kelly), and I don’t have homicidal urges. Despite two reckless pokes in the nostrils, I think I’m gonna be okay.




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