It's been like the Black Plague here in LA the past couple of weeks, except without the hideous boils and blood vomiting.
I remember talking to my mom a few days before Labor Day weekend and her telling me that my sister had a bad cold.
"A cold?" I asked incredulously. "It's still fricking summer."
Not too long after that phone coversation, my mom got sick. Then my girlfriend. They both had what I'd call a pseudo-cold, with the only symptom being coughing. No fever, no sneezing, no aching - just coughing.
I suppose this summer of intense working and drinking finally caught up to me, and soon I was coughing like I was doing ten packs a day. I decided to work from home, and from checking my office email, it appeared half my department was also sick. After a couple of days, the cough got a lot better. So when isogen called me up to get - as my British coworker often puts it - "severely cunted" at my former K-Town residence, Le Prive, I spent Friday evening confidently filling my belly with Crown and Patron shots.
The following morning (surprise, surprise) I wasn't feeling 100%; so I only got moderately cunted for my birthday festivities. Despite this "precaution," by the end of the night I'd actually lost my voice for the first time in my span of existence. The next afternoon at my friends' daughter's 1st birthday, I could only speak in whispers and strained wheezes. But another first was yet to come.
Monday morning I got out of bed, walked into the bathroom and noticed that my right eye was really red, crusty, and leaking pus. It was as if a diseased hooker had shat on my eyeball. Tuesday morning was worse. And when I heard two of my coworkers compaining to me that their eyes were red, I wondered if I had my very first case of conjunctivitis, or pink eye. From what I remember, it's highly contagious, utterly disgusting, and absolutely fatal.
I spent the rest of the day washing my hands religiously, and refrained from my usual method of greeting people by vigorously rubbing eyeballs, switching to genitalia instead. During dinner, I had Doc confirm that it was indeed conjunctivitis. But it was the viral version, which is fairly harmless compared to its bacterial brother.
Granted, it's a little late, but I've been debating about whether I should go to the office tomorrow if my eye gonorrhea hasn't healed. As with every day this summer, there are critical meetings to go to and urgent shit that needs to get done; but if it really is that contagious, I don't want to risk creating an army of hundreds of pink-eyed zombies roaming the streets in search of brains and Visine.
Decisions, decisions ...
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