January 23, 2008
Juiced
After keeping Trina awake for the past eight to ten nights with my constant coughing and hacking she finally just could not stand it any longer. When I got up she announced that she had made a doctor’s appointment. I immediately began to protest between fits of coughing which did nothing to lead credibility to my case that I didn’t need a doctor. Trina of course decided to take this opportunity to twist the knife in my back just a little more when she said, “this is why you didn’t get to go to Fantasy Camp, I knew you would be sick.” That is just about the meanest thing she has ever said to me. For a brief moment I thought about running up to her and coughing all over her letting my legion of germs do the voodoo they do so well. But I didn’t want to stoop to her level. Besides, if I stopped to think about it I probably did need to see a doctor since this cold just seems to be sticking with me. So I resigned myself to the fact that I was indeed sick. I hate admitting that, it just seems like such a defeatist attitude. And hey, not all doctors want to immediately schedule you for surgery right?
