The doctors were confused. Colleagues gather around my chart commiserating. Extra fingers poking and prodding. "Well, we're fairly certain you have a virus. We just are having difficulties nailing down a particular strain." Lovely. Sitting on the examination chair/bed with the protective pull away paper sheet. Thinking I might be the outbreak monkey.

SARS was ruled right out. Whew. Not presenting any of those symptoms.

It seems that the allergies swimming through my skull in St. Louis created a marshy swampland in there. The high altitude pressure of the flight back home to sweet sweet Manhattan, jimmied open the gateways in my head. Fluid seeped into my ear. Ears don't like that. Indeed, I could tell as they were sending blinding throttling pain all the way down to my toe pads.

This damage opened the secret backdoor to my immune system. A whole gang of amoebic party crashers marched on in.

The docs told me to start pounding, nay even overdosing on Sudafed. Gotta dry out the passageways fast. Remove the primordial pool. Course this influx of pills is creating a beautiful quiver river in my bowels. Also creating weird sleeping patterns. If ya didn't know, there's a form of crank up in them cold and flu meds. Take enough and your speeding a little. Not in the fun way though.

More than willing to make myself feel like a dry tweaker. Apparently the symptoms I am presenting are good precursors to two nasty illnesses. First is the sinusitis. Which is highly unpleasant. Puss laden mucus sprinting from your nose and chest is unfun. The more worrisome sickness is encephalitis.

Great Oshgosh b'gosh! Encephalitus!?! Water on the brain. Spinal tap. None, absolutely no anesthetic, spinal cord puncturing to drain the fluid. Heeyooyuck ickypoo.

Doctor found out I returned from St. Louis. There is actually a strain of encephalitis named after St. Louis. The St. Louis encephalitis. I knew all that oppressive, ass clenched, right wing intolerance was a hotbed for sickness.

I will take the pills.

Been having the fevers too. Except they aren't the kind that create halucinations. Not much point having fever if it's not gonna give you halucinations. Harumph.

Had some waiting room miasma. Recoil from other's banality strong on normal spanky days. Nerves scoured raw with sick means I'd like annoying people to disintegrate on the spot.

My family medical practice center has walk in hours. Highly convoluted schedule. Knew it usually starts around eight in the morning. Got there around ten. No dice till Noon. Super. Ask the desk jockey if I can wait outside the office in the lobby till it opens. Confused look.

This points to why I think I will never groove with the majority of the planet. People just can't understand how I can patiently sit there and wait. I am capable of dealing with the silence. I can occupy myself with my own thoughts and creativity. See, I can think.

Of course if idiots are nearby loudly spouting off with Ebola of the mouth it makes it difficult to filter them out and let my brain entertain me. Why are people so fucking afraid of still air? So insecure with their own thoughts they have to strike up pointless conversations. The emptiest pail makes the loudest noise. The loudest asshole in the room probably has the fewest I.Q. points.

First it was the old man who had to repeat everything he said three times. Bastard reception lackey couldn't close his yapper either. Old man - "What's that shit on your shirt?". Desk twerp - "That's Daredevil". "What's Daredevil?" "It's a movie." "I ain't heard nuthin bout that." "Yeah it's a movie and a comicbook" "I ain't heard nuthin about no Daredevil." "Yeah, it's good, it's a movie and a comicbook." "I ain't heard nuthin bout that, but I saw your shirt." At this point I snapped out of my own brand of meditation and growled at them. They looked at me like I was a crazy ass white boy, and continued with their inane bullshit. Wishing I had a giant blender to make a tard slushie.

Old man's doc finally shows up on the third floor. Deep breath. Clear the mechanism. Let my head go on with the good stuff.

Good head times soon abated. Waddling toy collector, virgin in his thirties, mouth breather took his turn at bat. Went on a long discourse of action figures that he finds and then resells on Ebay. They moved the conversation to cousins he has that have been extras in movies. Listed about twenty movies, asked if the desk twerp had seen them in it, always answered with a no. That went on like a root canal. The movie Gymkata was labelled a classic. Was about the time they were discussing the possibilites of dry walling together a dvd display that I wanted to take the flat end of a crowbar to their voiceboxes.

Blergh.

Just glad none of them tried to ask me a question. I would have been severly disappointed that I would have been unable to spray them with paralysing venom from glands under my tongue. Grrrrrrrr.

Reports on the vacation put on illness hold. Probably gonna finish it in the next few entries, cause it'll just burn a hole in my own completist freak psyche if I don't. I'm out like Chelsea boys on Eighth Avenue. Peace see ya later.