Morning Thanks

Garrison Keillor once said we'd all be better off if we all started the day by giving thanks for just one thing. I'll try.

Wednesday, November 21, 2012

Morning Thanks--Ills and chills


Honestly, I felt as if we'd rolled the car a half-dozen times. My body was beat up--I hurt all over.  When we arrived home, safely, from east of the Mississippi, I was sick in ways I haven't been for years. I mean, I actually suffered a stroke in May, got an expensive helicopter ride and two whole days in a Sioux Falls hospital, but for most of that time I was just fine, really, just a little disconcerted.  I was sort of in trouble, but I wasn't sick.  In fact, oddly enough, I was oddly euphoric.  Seriously.

I haven't been flea-bittin' sick--I mean belly-achin', cauldron-stomached, fever-ridden, upchuckin' sick--for I don't know how long. I'd eaten an ordinary breakfast in Chicago--a wonderful Belgian waffle--downed a towering glass of orange juice and another of milk, finished off my wife's potatoes, and had a cup of coffee. Maybe, all tolled, too much.

Then I strapped myself in the Buick and basically didn't move for eight hours.  By the time we got home, I was brewing something in me that required Hazmat handling.

I swear, from the moment we headed west I felt bovine-like, as if I'd madly feasted on sweet alfalfa, my belly ballooning like something from Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade; I told my wife to put a knife in my stomach, and she only laughed.  When we got home, I laid myself down, a position that offered blessed little relief. 

My head hurt, my shoulders ached, my legs felt kicked around for what seemed forever. A few thunderous events better left unsaid helped out a bit, but not until late afternoon the next day did I have any kind of appetite at all--enough, at least for a single piece of toast.

Mid-horror, I went to Web MD because I was getting altogether too many rotten doses of acid re-flux, and there I learned that one of the major causes of such symptoms is being--horrors!--overweight. Sheesh.  Just what I wanted to know a day before Thanksgiving.

I admit it. I've been blessed. I don't even remember the last time I felt so beat up. And even though this early morning as I sit here staring into the screen, my daily apple half-gnawed beside me and my stomach still questioning the idea of admitting anything at all, I'm happy and thankful to say I'm over it.  Whatever it was.  Sort of.

I wouldn't wish it on anyone's worst enemy, but the truth is, amidst all that suffering, I actually shed five pounds.  

Big deal. Tomorrow's Turkey Day. More massive Macy's ballooning.

Woe and woe.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

When ever I get that bloated feeling from gas from food that hasn't set well....I drink a coke and burp the biggest belch you have heard this side of the Mississippi in a day from a woman...and sweet relief. It's the only time I drink a coke and it is better than tums!