Thursday, December 8, 2016

Man Cold Progression

I am still alive. For this I am thankful even though my head feels on the verge of exploding like a Sigourney Weaver Belly.  Some new alien species is wanting to Zeus children out of my head.  But I ‘m cool with that.  My level of acceptance is marginally better. If I die today  it’s okay. My body will need to be cremated naturally.  We wouldn’t want whatever I have to spread.
My sinuses are definitely hooped.  No good.  Is my nose permanently inadequate as a result of my picking it.  Did my mother nocebo me a lifelong inadequate sinuses because they wanted me as a child to stop picking my nose as the dining room table.  Boogers show on the white table cloths.  You’re learning from adults you’re not supposed to flick these at your brother.  Next thing your undeveloped mind has demonized snot.  So everyone once in a while as an adult tthere’s a great revolution in the sinuses and snot escapes en mass to the outer world, like babies stripping off their clothes and running naked under garden hoses.
My cough is deeper descending. The invasion of alien microbes, the First Wave in this fight to the death between my humanoid self and these Lilliputian small man syndromed creatures.  I cough.  Laryngitis is the point of quitting. If I get laryngitis I throw in the towel and don’t go to work but wait in my bed for imminent death.  We’ve been at this rodeo before. I’ve come through these personal world war fights with sickness and disease minimized by the state and generalized as ‘common cold’.  It’s a lacklustre disease.  It’s ‘just the flu’.  It’s grossly under rated.  The Man Cold is the disease most discriminated against.
I’ve terrible gas. I fart something fierce. Bloating.  I feel on the verge of relief but on the toilet just make rude noises.
Outside the world is a reflection of my inner travail.  Snow and ice have coated the landscape, freezing and killing anything that was sentient without a warm place to hide from the incipient weather.  In the north we prepared for this.  In Winnipeg it comes and we know we’re in for the duration. In Churchill it’s expected.  It lasts for most of the year.  NASA sends their astronauts to Canada to train in our environment for life on the moon. If you can survive Winnipeg or Churchill or worse Sudbury you just might be able to live on Mars.
 We live with thanksgiving for summer and what facsimiles of spring and fall we are granted. But here on the West Coast in this unaffordable city of Vancouver, where criminal money from overseas and the billions of dollars of revenue from pot grpwing have jacked up all the prices so only the rich can afford housing,  this isn’t supposed to happen.  The Homeless are shocked. They escaped Newfoundland and Ontario and even Alberta to move to the Lower Mainland of BC believing they could survive on the streets, no longer having jobs to afford heating in Eastern Canada. The government has made each Canadian choose ‘food or heat’ .  So the fat are now lying outside on the streets of Vancouver hoping they made the right choice and their fat will protect them.
My car was frozen shut yesterday. I was tugging at the doors of the Miata after finding it first with snow brushes and ice scrapers. Then it refused me entrance.  I heard my little sporscar say to me, “I’m not working today. It’s too awful.”  It was a major therapy session with  me  the ice pick and the Miata not responding to anything short of a lobotomy.
Vancouver drivers and Vancouver cars are not prepared for snow and cold. Politicians have been building bicycle lands and trying to convince everyone that cycling in freezing rain and parkas and icey streets is a favourable thing to do.  These limousine liberals haven’t ever seen a bicycle themselves and expect underpaid Canadians to drive them from one pig fest to the next.
The all weather car tires aren’t meant for cold.  They’re all weather Ohio or Southern China.  I miss studs and chains.  There are accidents along the free way. I’m driving in a 120 km zone at 10 km.  It’s miserable.  And cold.
And I’m chilled.  I feel like I might have malaria because every so often my whole body shakes and I feel on the verge of seizuring.
I stopped thinking of suicide.  It takes too much effort. I feel this Man Cold will kill me soon enough.
Women are now talking to me in that voice they use for little children. I see them showing facial features of concern.
I want the world to feel guilty for what they have done to me.  Left me alone in this body to fight off the Borg of a Man Cold. “Resistance is futile. You will be assimilated!"
I must be doing better than I think. I’m not in a fetal position. The fetal position is my fall back ploy. In a fetal position most of the vital organs are protected.  The head is out there available to be stomped but the rest of me is tucked in pretty good.
My head doesn’t seem of use to me. It aches and drips and whines.  I hate the whining. I can’t focus on anything but self pity and misery.
The water pipes are frozen in my home. I have a functional toilet at work. The blessing of running water gets me to head to work.
At work I pay attention to others suffering. It’s a useful distraction. Everyone seems to be sharing this collective meeting with Satan.  All week men have come in red nosed, coughing up green, throbbing headaches and telling me they’re dying. I’ve done the ‘this is just a virus and all you need is rest  and chicken soup tirade a few times’ but I’ve been broken by the sight of them suffering. I’ve written several prescriptions for antibiotics as they pleaded. “Dr. I’m dying. Aren’t you going to help me. I need medicine.”
I don’t have a lot of faith in medicine and a Man Cold.  I hold off on the Amoxil and zithromycis, the doxycycline and erythromycin.  The only fallback after we start on that route is the Vancomycin. And all the antibiotics make the diarrhea worse.  I ‘m still going for the antihistamines. I had a clam chowder soup yesterday.  White Spot.  Medicinal clam chowder soup. Followed by fish and chips.  It got me an hour more along the life cycle.
People want permanent cures. Life is a marathon. I can at best get from day to day. I hear people retrospectively complaining about a lifetime of misery and explain to them that I haven’t a clue as to whether or not yesterday even existed. All we have is today.  Really the misery of yesterdays doesn’t need to be remembered and stuck on the wall like a collection of dead insects, lost days , in a life time of struggle. I just have to get through today. If thinking about something positive will help me I’ll do it. It’s just too easy to focus on the negative. I see people revelling in their suffering.  Not me. I’m a stoic.  Ask everyone around. I’m just a regular Man Cold, complaining, whimpering, narcissistic dying person.
They don’t know that I am the sufferer. I have a Man Cold.  This is something even women can’t appreciate.  I am now fantasizing on running away to the tropics.  I have had enough of Canadian winter.
I am utterly tired of hearing about Climate Change from those along the tropics where the vast majority live in relative comfort and joy. They think ‘climate change’ is some terrible thing with the water rising a tiny bit each year. and the prospect of having to move from the coast to the interior a thousand years hence. They really just bitching about the declining real estate value on their multimillion dollar coastal view homes.
They are so very un Canadian. They hardly have seasons but demand billions now from the world to pay for their air conditioning units. They’re so very un Canadian. Here it’s either freezing our balls or burning our feet. We have annual climate change. It’s a real bitch. They should stop their weather girl bitching and get a real life.  All their Al Gore talk about the polar caps melting. 90% of the little Climate Change wankers haven’t even seen snow.
DiCaprio wet his pants when he encountered a Calgary chinook. These are sometimes weekly events. The Climate Change Twinkies are effete boys and girls who live in womb like worlds and are projecting catastrophe on the whole world because they had to buy a new air conditioner because their last one wore out a year earlier.  Make them  live in a real place like Canada and see how then maybe we’ll listen to what they have to say about weather.  But only if when the weather is freezing outside they get a Man Cold on top of that and still go to work, rather than having a government job where they stay home with just a sniffle.
It’s terrible out there.  My friend had my truck. He’d borrowed it. I begged him to bring it back. I can’t face another day going to work without my F350 Ford with snow tires, and a couple of winches. I’ve got a back up ATV in the box so if I can’t get out of a tough snow situation I can unload the quad and go overland.  I’m terrified of going to work in my little Miata. With the roads so icy I could slide out and hit one of those tragic little  Millenials wearing a Bernie ball cap  pushing their bicycle through snow drifts. .  So many Car2Gos  in the ditch.  Thera radio announcer keeps reporting another accident  closeing intersection. I’d get out and walk but if I slip I’d break a hip and the ambulances might not get to me for days.
Climate Change. The pompous little potato wants more money for this red herring when we all know the money is to put more gold in his multi million dollar Ssusex Drive Palace. He probably has heat floors.  Taxing the air and giving our countries hard earned money to wife beating pedophiles even more corrupt than him with his dictator friends and grandiose fantasies.  .
Meanwhile I’m full of self loathing.  I should have a real job where I didn’t have to work for a living.  It’s the Man Cold. I should have taken up a life of crime so that I could go out and kill an enemy when I’m feeling this way.  If I had another religion I could behead someone for not dressing the way I approve. I could have virgins thrown at me.  There are definitely  perks I’m missing out on.
Right now I have to get up and get a kleenex. The box of kleenex is just out side of my reach.  Snot is dripping onto my upper lip.  No body knows the troubles I’ve seen.

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