Friday Night Fever

Alas, another week has passed by.  For me, yet another largely uneventful and very sedentary, boring week. I was hoping to get a lot of things done this week. Like most men, I have a number of outstanding jobs on the go in and around the house, and a home improvement to-do list as long as my arm. Jobs on this list include replacing bulbs, painting, chimney cleaning, septic tank de-sludging, radiator bleeding, cat worming, timber chopping, repairing rickety furniture etc. My own particular list also reads: build another shed, lay kerbs and driveway, power wash house and footpaths etc, so no shortage of work there. And, seeing as I'm a (stereo) typical man, there is nothing I love more than pricking around with power tools.

But, regrettably, all that sawing, drilling, assembling, brushing, grinding, cutting, polishing and re-calibrating has once again been put on hiatus. My overalls, mask, gloves, goggles and steel toe capped boots will all have to be moth-balled for at least another fortnight. But what hurts the most, the one thing that cuts deeper than anything, the single most crushing blow, is that I wont get a chance to debut my brand new Super-Handy Mega Utilitarian Tool & Accessory Belt I got off santy for Christmas. I mean, come on. Who doesn't want to look like Batman when they're hanging a door or changing a fuse.

From information I've pieced together from my almost non-existent knowledge of human anatomy, bits I've picked up from reading magazines in the doctors waiting room, and things I've overhead in the que at the post office, I've came to this conclusion in its simplest terms:

Here is some medicine to clear up your chest infection.
This medicine will cure your chest infection, but will obliterate your immune system.
This will cause you to develop and even worse infection in your sinuses a few days later.
Here is some more medication to clear up your sinus infection.
Repeat step 2 and prepare to be indefinitely miserable.

On Friday evening last, I was going about my business as usual, feeling thankful for finally starting to feel better after the past 15 days of malaise. I felt a routine sneeze coming on. No problems I thought, just a sneeze. The sneeze mechanism slowly wound itself up and came out. Ah-choo!!. I really wasn't expecting this everyday bodily function to be accompanied by a blast of agonising pain to the top of my head, comparable to being hit with a sledgehammer. I saw a flash of blue light, my eyes rolled back and I almost blacked out. Wow, that was one bad-ass sneeze.

I thought nothing more of it until the next morning. I awoke, turned around to wish Mrs. Byrne a good day when all I heard was "ARRRRRAAAGHHHRRH"!!!!.
What, what, what is it I said?
When she didn't answer I knew something was wrong. Silence speaks a thousand words.

Now, have you ever wondered what the lovechild of Kim Jong Un and Minnie Driver would look like, after he got battered black and blue by Wladimir Klitschko for a full hour? That's as close as a description I can up with of what I saw when I looked in the mirror. A big swollen pumpkin head. By this time the jackhammer-esque headache had returned. I started to get really concerned when I noticed the skin lesions and a rash forming..

Well ain't that just grand. As I'm not too keen on the idea of contracting meningitis or anaphylactic shock I had no choice but to call on the excellent out of hours G.P service we are very lucky to have in the next town over. Very easy process, I gave a few details and was told to call over immediately. Similar to a fondness for power tools, like most men, I'm a pathological gobshite when it comes to doctors or hospitals, so when a medical professional uses words like "immediately", it has a tendency to exasperate one's unnecessary anxiety.

As we sped towards the doctors office I was planning what to say if I met anyone I knew. I would explain that I didn't walk into a door, I wasn't a victim of  brutal domestic violence, and I didn't fall into a manhole or over the Abbey wall when pissed. ( I haven't done that last one since the summer of '96.. Ah, the good old days...). So I would have to come clean I tell them I was riddled with something highly contagious, at which point they'd hand me a mask, a bell, and then run away in the opposite direction screaming hysterically and waving their arms in the air.

I entered the doctors office to a variety of stares. I just wanted to get in and hide under a chair until it was time to be seen. I was called within two minutes, and when I went in the doctor had his back to me while he finished off typing something on his laptop. He told me to sit down and he'd be right with me. When he finished typing and turned around to talk to me, I was expecting a sympathetic look, a little smile, and maybe a few words of reassurance. Something along the lines of:

Hi Dave, that looks nasty, but don't worry we'll get you fixed up in no time.

His expression didn't fill me with confidence..

Instead, his face dropped, his eyes widened, and he gasped. Rather than the encouraging look I was hoping for his demeanor screamed:

WHOA, JESUS FUCKING CHRIST WHAT THE FUUUUCCCK IS THAT!!!!  

Thoughts of being put in a cage and being rolled out at the circus raced through my mind.
" See the amazing singing culchie hamster-man. His face looks like the moon"

After the initial shock wore off, we settled down to business. Following assessment it was determined that I was wasn't in any immediate danger, just unlucky to have gotten two good doses one directly following another. After the prescription was written up, he offered me some tips on boosting my immune system. Plenty of fresh fruit and veg, fluids and rest. And if I ran out of  kale suppositories not to worry, just peel a kiwi and stick it up there.

I returned home, crawled into bed, tried not to laugh, cough, sneeze or move my eyes. I was happy I wasn't sent to a travelling freak show in Bolivia this time.

I am pleased to report that today, I've downgraded the swelling from catastrophic shellfish allergy to a mere David Coulthard. So, things are going in the right direction.

The Serious Bit:

We are very fortunate to have a service like NowDoc on our doorstep. A very fast, very professional and efficient service. Its great to have the piece of mind that the service is available for real emergencies.

See yiz all next week

Your health is your wealth, your sanity, your everything.

Aside from the odd sniffle, ache or sinus blockage, I rarely get ill. Thankfully, I’ve never been seriously ill. I rarely have cause to look for sympathy, but if I did, I’d swiftly remind myself that I’m from a small town in the west of Ireland, and sympathy, sensitivity and empathy are not widely practiced here, so it’s completely pointless to even try. Unless you are officially terminally ill, have lost a limb or missing an organ or two, all you can expect to get is abuse. Everyone becomes an expert. If I was to follow the advice given to me by several of my so called friends over the last 10 days, I suspect I would be well beyond the reach of home care by now, and would have been admitted to hospital some time ago. Typically, and unsurprisingly, one of the stalwart Irish stereotypical suggestions I received was:

“A few hot ones will sort ya out”

No, no they won’t.

Regardless of what time of the year it is, whatever the weather, whatever type of aliment you may have, there is always a dose going around. Always.

“I’m not feeling well”....”yeah there’s a bad auld dose going”

There is never not a dose going around.

It’s early January, 2017. The sooner this persistent and very resilient bout of respiratory contagion has expired and my medically enforced house arrest has been lifted the better. True, there are times when I would love the luxury of having a few whole days of nothing to do and be free to kick back and relax at home, but when you have to ingest a cocktail of extremely strong pills which actually make you vomit before they start working, drink gallon after gallon of water and thin broth, then subsequently having to urinate every five minutes, try and force yourself to eat when you can't, continuously try to adjust your internal chronometer to adapt your system to being totally wired at four o clock in the morning, then practically unconscious by lunchtime, spending time at home soon becomes an arduous task. It’s not so much fun when you can’t enjoy a nice bottle of red and a side of baby back ribs or a fillet steak.

Creature comforts such as a hot shower, a full larder and fridge, television, an extensive DVD and book collection, many guitars, amplifiers, effects, wireless internet, an open fire and soft furnishings which I normally would never take for granted are becoming mundane and uninteresting, and serve to add to the tedium. If I watch any more television I will start to lose all cognitive brain function, and my synapses will collapse. If I read any more books my eyeballs will liquefy. If I count the number of squares on the sofa upholstery again I'll have to be sectioned. The fire is being a pain in the arse and I think I’ll just burn all the guitars for something to do.

As from today, I officially know everything there is to know about the mating rituals of the Burmese clouded leopard, how to re-bore a cylinder head from a 1982 Ford Fiesta, make the perfect beef Wellington, abandoned Soviet missile silos, male and female wannabe non-celebrities plastered with fake tan and makeup pretending they can dance on a stupid show, honey badgers, gyroscopes, solar flares, craft beer making, the Botfly, topical jungle medicine, keyhole surgery, money laundering, composting toilets, floating raft foundations, the Panama canal, people who never met each other getting married, teenage moms, the man with 37 wives and last but not least, Margaret Thatcher's secret henchmen.

Tomorrow morning, I’m expecting a small package from An Post AND a delivery from a courier simultaneously!! I can’t say I’ve ever been excited about seeing the postman before, and my normal interaction with the courier is a long winded argument about how he knows full well where my house is but just can’t be arsed to deliver the item because it’s a few minutes out of his way, but I can barely contain my glee! If he does make it the house I'll drag him in for tea and make him watch a really long film with me. Schindler's list, Titanic or Ben Hur, something like that, even though my eyes will be burnt out of my head. I’m also very much looking forward to loading the dishwasher and folding towels. That’s how boring it can get. If I ever thought about becoming a professional criminal this has put me right off, as I know now I could never do prison.




On a serious note, these few days have given me a lot of time to think. This is only a temporary situation and I’m expecting my exile to end within another week, and I fully realise and appreciate what those who may be battling a serious illness, convalescing from surgery, receiving palliative care, or suffering from severe depression or anxiety have to face on a day to day basis.

I know I will be able to get back in the car in a few days and do the normal, routine, monotonous, everyday rat-racing that we all whinge about from time to time. But compared to what so many other poor people have to endure, the rat race is glorious, the routine is a blessing and being fit and healthy enough to deal with all life’s challenges, setbacks and assholes is a privilege.

Life is all too brief. Don’t put anything off. Be nice to others but be true to yourself. Don’t allow yourself be judged. Don’t be a walkover but don’t be an asshole. You’re only human. If you think someone needs help then they probably do. Ask them. Don’t wait for someone else to do it. If someone asks you an awkward question answer them honestly. They wouldn’t have asked if they didn’t want to hear the answer truthfully. 

Till next time...Adios!!