Kage Baker, being a modest lady, lived in a sort of lace-mitten horror of ever discussing her health. It’s how and why she managed not to let anyone know she had cancer until 4 months before she died. And even then, it was only because she had to go to an award convention in which she had been nominated. As it was, she got a wheelchair and chocolate bars to throw to (or maybe at) the crowd, and made a special effect out of it all.
I try to behave the same way, although it’s harder for me. (Being a naturally vulgar person …) I have a personal tendency to exotic diseases and public collapses, as well. However, when possible, I don’t carry on about it. It’s unladylike. Also, it depresses me and other people.
In the meantime, I woke up this morning with a cold. This is outrageous: when you have serious diseases, the common cold should have the good manners to leave you alone. Viruses have no manners, and they don’t even care. I’ve been reading Ed Yong’s paean to beneficial microbial life, I Contain Multitudes (excellent book. I recommend it.) while I sniff and snuffle. And to Dr. Yong, whom I now hold responsible, I say “Ppphhhttt.” Juicily.
But you, Dear Readers, are all such lovely people that when I lost patience and bitched and moaned about all my wretched health “challenges”, you universally responded with support and affection.
As Bilbo Baggins said, “Thag you bery buch.” May no dragons fall on your houses.
And now, I am going to bed, with a bottle of medicinal absinthe (green Nyquil). Back tomorrow, unless I drown in my skull.
No dragons, no lightning