Feeling under the Weather

I’m feeling under the weather. I have this chilly sensation that indicates the presence of a cold. I have a runny nose. I find myself sneezing, too, at the most inopportune time.

Last night, I was breathing noisily. I had problem going to sleep. when I finally fell asleep, I probably snored. Even though I didn’t hear it, I must have sounded like a pig taking a nap after a hearty meal.

I must have gotten this cold from somebody, but it would be hard to pinpoint from whom. Science has advanced so much that nowadays people can hide their cold symptoms by taking drugs like cough suppressants that prevent the cough reflex from doing its job when the throat gets irritated.

Since the incubation period takes about 3 days, I assume that I caught the virus last Friday. By coincidence, I had lunch on that day with a former co-worker and friend in a crowded all-you-can eat Chinese buffet. We were accompanied by another person with a small and bushy moustache with tips arching up. Could either one of them be the source of the virus? We were sitting close together. I wonder if it started getting into my system right then and there. I was in a vulnerable state enjoying the food and good conversation.

In fairness to my lunch companions, they didn’t show any symptoms of the disease. In my estimation, both were fairly in good health. They looked at me straight in the eye. They ate heartily, sampling most of the items from the buffet table. My friend might appeared a little bit down, but that was understandable since he just lost his job.

Well, I’m not going to blame anybody. It’s about time that I should get a cold anyway. The temperature has started to dip into the low 30s at night. Soon it’ll be winter. I better get used to it.

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Telemarketing Hang-ups

Charlie Brown – Charles Schulz
 
This is the time of the year when the feeling is great. If only for a few weeks, you allow your guard down and throw your caution to the winds, imbued with the spirit of peace, generosity, and goodwill towards your fellowmen.

It’s in this vulnerable state that savvy telemarketers and solicitors from various charities know you’ll be an easy target for their sales pitch. As a result, they make sure you get all the calls they think you deserve.

Food Confidential

 
It’s not so long ago, in terms of human evolution, that our forebears could eat whatever they wanted. Back in the day, they consumed food naturally such as picking fruits and berries right from the source. Soon they found that fish and shellfish as well as animals were fair game, too. The discovery of fire led to cooking food, and ultimately to making a meal out of enemies killed in battle.

As society became more sophisticated, our eating habits followed suit. Cannibalism was banned at the instigation of the church. Go figure! While condoning the Inquisition for roasting of alleged witches and heretics, it considered eating human flesh as inhumane. But i digress.

6-Inch Subway: Does It Measure Up?

 
I took a 6-inch Subway turkey sandwich home with me last night. Since I never had one in ages, I thought it was a great idea. I find a Subway sandwich not only a healthy alternative to the Big Mac, but also offers more value for the money.

Early this year, Subway has gotten some flak. Somebody from Australia I’d call Matt Corby because that’s his name discovered something amiss about the footlong sandwich that he ordered. It seemed like it was shorter than advertised. But rather than depend on his instincts, he lay it on the table like a cadaver and measured it using a tape measure. He was right. It measured a mere 11 inches.

The Doctor Is Retiring

I received a voice mail the other day. It was from the doctor’s office. Tthe sweet voice reminded me that I was scheduled to see the doctor today and that I should be in the office at least 10 minutes early. She ended the message by saying that if I didn’t show up, there would be a $75 charge. For sure, she left me with no choice but to go.

I arrived at the doctor’s office 15 minutes before my scheduled time. I went straight to the receptionist window. Since the window was closed, I tapped at it to announce my presence. No response. I tapped at it several times more to get her attention. This impertinence on my part must have annoyed her. She finally opened the window.

“I heard you the first time,” she said with a fake smile. “Would you please wait for your turn?” And then she closed the window on my face with authority. I stood silently before the window like a hurt child. It would take another 10 minutes before she opened it again and asked what in the hell I was there for.

I told her meekly that my name is so-and-so and that I came for my doctor’s appointment.

She checked my name on her appointment list, asked for my insurance card, and told me to take my seat.

It would take another hour before the nurse called my name and led me to the examination room. It was way beyond my scheduled appointment. There was no point in complaining. Patients are supposed to wait for their doctor. If you don’t believe me, look for the definition of ‘patient’ in the dictionary.

I sat on the examination table like a lamb about to be sacrificed for another 15 minutes before the doctor finally came in.

“How are you doing?” he asked. “Do you feel any pain or discomfort?”

I told him that I have a sore throat and need prescription for antibiotics. It was obvious from my voice that turned baritone lately.

He looked at me intently and nodded. His face was serious. I knew right then and there that it wasn’t the right thing to say.

Doctors consider themselves as gods. Your job is to tell them about your symptoms and nothing more. They feel insulted when you diagnose yourself. That’s their calling, you see. Besides, if you already know what’s ailing you, what’s the point of you going to them in the first place?

“Do i have to undress?” I asked to break the wall of silence between us.

“No, it’s not necessary,” he said. “This is just a follow-up from your last physical. Just lie down and I’ll take your blood pressure.”

That was it. He completely ignored my sore throat as if to punish me for my indiscretion. He was done with me and this time it was for good. Before he left the room, he told me that he was retiring from private practice.

I felt a little misty-eyed when we shook hands and said good-bye. He was my doctor for many years. I will always remember him as the one who regularly poked my butt with his gloved finger and played with my testicles like they were a pair of Chinese balls. He let me suffer this ignominy in the name of science.

It’s time to look for another doctor to take his place. Perhaps i should choose a female doctor for a change. What do you think?