Southwest Kansas Register

I’ve looked into becoming the first person to be canonized while still alive. It seems that after reading one of my columns, Edward Entwhite of Liberal was completely cleared of sinus congestion.

Speaking of illnesses, during the writing of my last column I was experiencing dizzy spells and nausea which went on for two days. Today, two weeks later, I’m in the midst of stomach flu. I just ate my first solid food in a day and a half and my stomach sounds like the battle of Bull Run. In fact, I think the Confederates are getting ready to charge. Yep, there they go. Better get Lieutenant Mylanta. May even need to call on General Imodium. Hurry, general! Don’t linger!

(Editor’s note: Dave stopped working on his column at this point. The following was written the next day at his office. We now join the following column, already in progress.)

This is the third illness I’ve had in two months. Right before Christmas I had that weird cold/flu thing that’s going around. It was too harsh to be a cold, yet not bad enough to be the flu. For more than three days I felt like I had a porcupine lodged in my throat. I tried that Chloraseptic spray that’s supposed to numb the pain, but it just made him mad. At one point I heard a voice say, "Bring it on!"

I don’t know about you, but whenever I get a high fever, my dreams are always like an episode of "The Prisoner." They’re so weird and confused. And they seem to go on forever like a final English exam that you’re forced to take while dressed as a pecan and using only a light fixture to write out the answers. When you’re done you realize it wasn’t an exam at all, but a re-enactment of the impeachment of Richard M. Nixon thrown in your honor.

Despite the fevers and all the aches and pains, the worst part of being sick is calling in sick to work – especially when it’s your third illness in two months. I always hear that hint of suspicion, whether it’s there or not. Two nights ago I had a temperature of 101; the two crackers I ate for supper made me feel as if I’d just eaten a case of Orios and three Keebler Elves; I was going from chills to sweats to chills again every 15 minutes; and a commercial for Burger King caused my stomach to detach itself from my body and hitchhike to Western Plains Medical Complex.

Yet, when I called in sick to work yesterday morning, all I could think was, "Gee, I hope they believe me." I wanted to describe every detail of what I was going through. I wanted them to hear in my voice the raw pain and anguish that accompanies Gastroenteritis and it’s wicked step-sister, nausea.

Instead?

"Hello? Hi. I … um … I’m really sick. No, seriously. I am. … I mean, I suppose I could be sicker, but relatively speaking, I feel pretty awful. (Uncomfortable silence. Do I go on? Do I wait for an answer?) Yep. Preeeetty sick. Well, maybe not compared to those people starving in Africa, haha. Compared to them, I feel pretty good. It’s just, you know, stomach flu’s no picnic, in fact it’s quite the opposite. Anyway, sorry about my being sick and all. … Um, this is the Diocese of Dodge City, isn’t it?"

(Click).

When I finally do come back to work, everyone’s work has gotten done except mine. The world has continued revolving – the cogs of commerce spinning – while I was at home grasping a blanket like a life preserver. I’m still weak from illness -- my stomach still churning, my only desire is a quick nap -- yet my work-load has doubled ... trippled … octagon-dupled!!

But what of my co-workers? Will they bring concern, pitying the poor soul that now occupies my desk like a Gollum? Will they give me the encouragement I need?:

"So, how does it feel to be back at work after four days lounging around while we were all here slaving away?"

With this, I decide it would be best to send out an interoffice email, which I set to the music, "Don’t Cry for Me Argentina":

"I still feel pretty weak, my coworkers. I still have some pains here and there, some fatigue, loss of appetite, cramping, nausia, headache, and sinus congestion. My knee hurts. As does my lower back, my right wrist, my eyebrows, my left ear, the second knuckle of my left hand, the upper third of my large intestine, and my fibula. But otherwise I’m fine."

When you think about it, having these occasional illnesses helps us empathize with others who are suffering; they help us realize we’re mortal; and perhaps most importantly, they remind us of our need for a power much stronger than ourselves, the power of a loving God.