The Medicine Man

Circle in closely. Warm yourself by the fire. Chant if you like. The peace pipe will be around shortly.

In an effort to maintain a sense of physical invincability, I again did not participate in the company’s flu shot program. In past years I’ve had no need for it. I rarely fall ill and when I do it’s usually quite brief.

About this time last week my neck started to get stiff. Then my chest felt tight. My nose, a bit stuffy. I was feverish and tired. By Saturday I felt like a champ. Sunday morning, it all began to manifest itself into one real menace of a head cold. My brother, just two months from Med School graduation, called. I laid out the symptoms.

“How long has this been going on,” he asked.

“About five or six days now,” I said.

“Oh…” He trailed off.

“Why?” I was curious.

“Because you have the symptoms of menengitis. But, if it’s been five or six days, you’re probably okay.”

“How’s that?”

“Because if you had menengitis, you’d probably be dead by now.”

Comforting.

I’ve been sick more often in the past four months than in any year in recent memory. I’m feeling a bit better today, but I’m suffering from a monster case of Medicine Head.

Which is why I’m having visions of Native American Sweat Boxes and peyote delusions.

If it weren’t so cold in New Orleans right now…I’d really like to be at a Mardi Gras parade.