For the past few days, yours truly has been very ill, dealing with what I learned today was a form of illness in which my allergies decided to go the route of a horror flick and mutate inside me into a virus. Yeah, seriously. It's been a while since I've been this sick, as I've managed to lose ten pounds in four days. Not good at all. Especially with two 5K's on the horizon.
Nonetheless, after a recent visit to the doctor, not only did I ironically learn that I was very healthy (other than this illness of course), but about this weird transformation illness from allergies to virus that has bed-ridden me for the past few days.
So as I sat inside the doctor's waiting room (a place very high on my "I hate going there" list) surrounded by elderly people, other sick people, and a television pumping out everything I despise in television - otherwise known as "daytime television" - I punch out the following poem on my phone.
I hated it at first. After all it served it's purpose of simply passing the time. However, the more I read it, I figured, why the heck not post it? I'm sure there is at least one of you who can relate to this. Nonetheless, here it is. Enjoy.
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Sneeze, sneeze! Sneeze, Sneeze!
Oh how I hate such pollen in the breeze.
A runny nose and itchy eyes,
leaves one embracing that warm weather health demise.
Oh to rely on Claritin and tons of tissue for aid,
the typical game plan for relief which is often played.
No more sneezing and no more sinus pain.
Time to sit back watch this disturbance wane.
Only if this were so. Only if this were the norm.
Only to feel this thing grow. Only to feel it transform.
I wish I could sneeze and suffer allergen's usual case.
I'll trade it in return for this sore throat and disgusting metallic taste.
One sick day. Two sick days. I'm feeling quite red.
Wallowing in my sickness and confined to my bed.
To the doctor I go! For the first time in forever!
Only for him to tell me that I am healthier than ever!
He says, "you have a mutated virus that ruptured throat"
I respond be asking, "sir, is this some kind of joke?"
Offering a prescription, he predicts relief in the coming days.
What choice do I have? I believe him on the optimistic ways.
Down ten pounds, bored, and still ill,
Eating a full meal and being mobile is suddenly a thrill.
Feeling better, slight relief feels like a tempting tease.
Feeling angry, my dislike grows for the combination of spring, wind, and trees.
I pray to God to get better - Puhhhleeeeeeeeeaze!
And for him to somehow reduce, that pollen in the breeze.