Monday, April 21, 2008

Last Rites

Sunday was lost.  I went back to bed to try to sleep my virus off.  I felt cold, hot, cold, hot and miserable.  Somewhere in the middle of my feverish dreams, I became aware that Pope Benedict was giving me Sacrament of the Sick.  I was dying.  He sounded like Colonel Klink from Hogan's Heroes.  I mean no disrespect here.  This was my dream.  After I received last rites, I jumped out of bed, scared out of mind I was dying.  What the hell did this mean?  I was frightened and a bit out of my mind.  I'm not even Catholic.  Should I be?  I mean, was the Pope trying to tell me something?

I stood there looking around my room still feeling too miserable to be dead and saw the TV on and broadcasting the Pope's mass in New York's Yankee Stadium.  Not dead.  Not even close.  I told my husband that I felt sick and if I needed to go to the hospital, I didn't want to go on life support.  He said "no problem."

Either I'm being somewhat overly dramatic (again), or he just doesn't want to prolong his misery.  He gave me Sudafed and sent me back to bed.  Later, I tried to research the meaning of my dream and I think I've figured it out.   
  1. Don't sleep with the TV on.
  2. Watch out for home-made cough syrup (1/2 cup honey, 1/2 cup lemon juice and 1/4 cup Jack Daniels.)  It makes you hallucinate-especially when you drink it all.
  3. Don't let your spouse be your health care advocate.  If you're worth more dead than alive, you are providing too much temptation in your viral state.


Rositta said...

He he he, I like that home made cough syrup. The pope is not very charismatic not like Jean Paul. He's typically German though none of us have much in way of charisma...ciao

Rudee said...

I swear, that dream was as real as they get. I'm still sweating! And he did sound just like Col. Klink. LOL

The Rotten Correspondent said...

Are you still feeling sucky? Go back to bed. And take advantage of those blessed low census days. The Pope alone knows when you'll see another one.

ExpatKat said...

Oh, Rudee, get well soon. The hot toddy sounds great. I love 'em.

Rudee said...

You're right RC, the Pope alone knows when all the planets will next align to bestow upon me an LCD. To bad mine went to waste.

I'm better today expatkat though I think I'll try to get thru the night without sudafed. I need to sleep and that stuff just makes me wiggy.

Anonymous said...

My grandmother had the perfect cure for a cold. Goose grease on your chest and a smear of Vick's menthol rub around the nose area.

Rudee said...

And where was your granny from anon? Goose grease? You'd have to have a horrible cold to tolerate that treatment.