Sick, sick, sick, sick

Today was the first day I woke up not feeling the weakness beneath the “I’m okay.”  I’m not okay, as such, if by okay you define being well enough to roll up my sleeves and start scrubbing the house which looks like the Augean stables, only more so.  I still feel tired and sort of out of it, but not like I’m walking a thin layer of seeming normalcy and will at any minute fall through into sickness.

I wish I could explain that feeling better than that.  I don’t even know if other people have it.  I didn’t use to.  Sickness used to land on me without warning, then vanish just as quickly, but about ten years ago, I started waking up the night or two before I got sick, with that feeling of walking on a thin layer of health that will give out at any minute.  There are no symptoms as yet, at that point, just the feeling “All is not sound.”

For the last two days, I’ve woken up feeling that but in reverse.  There was this hole of “not well” but a thin layer of “almost well” on top.  And I felt grateful for it.

Today, for the first time, I feel like I’m sound through.  I will not push.  And I don’t feel strong.  But it’s more like… like I just had a really tiring weekend and today I’m recovering.  Like a lot was taken out of me, so I can baby myself.

Which is why I’m so late posting.  

The feeling/sense that I’m going to get sick, before I have any symptoms fascinates me.  There’s the temptation to say “Well, you got sick because you expected it” but actually I’m almost sure that’s not it.  More like I sense weakness that’s not visible yet.  At any rate, the type of illness it heralds can be anything and I never know what to expect.  If we’re in flu season and I rest THEN and push enough vitamin c and stuff, I might not really get ill, just have this shallow “not quite well” two or three day period.

But sometimes I’m wrong.  Vitamin C doesn’t do much for stomach flu, for instance.  And this time, I didn’t know what to expect, and then Dan got sick which limits my ability to sit back and baby myself.  (Not that he’s a demanding patient, but it means that he can’t do much, and his cat becomes hysterical, and… well… I worry.)

What I’m trying to get at is that it might be well nigh impossible for us to ever figure out what part of how we experience our bodies is real and what part is psychosomatic. We all know about hypochondriacs who display real symptoms.  There are people who can make wounds appear on themselves, as well as people who can heal themselves.  There are faith healers.

And, unrelated to illness, there is the fact that if you imagine exercise in great detail, you’ll develop muscles.  This study didn’t even surprise me because way back, when I was writing Mirrorplay, there were these five chapters where they were cutting cross-country, ten people surviving from a battle and with a plan to cut at the heart of the enemy citadel, before the enemy could expect a counter attack.  Their march involved not just a hard slog of walking, but swimming and rock climbing and crossing ravines hand over hand from a suspended rope.  I don’t think I EVER ate as much as I did that week.  I was always hungry.  And I lost ten pounds.  The cue seems to be “Imagining in detail” which for most of us and most exercise would be boring, right?  Unless you’re paraplegic or something.

It’s one of those things that bedevils me – what is real, and what is our mind playing tricks on me?  One of my writing acquaintances, who used to do Star Trek novels, which I understand are intensive bursts of work, said she used to have Star Trek Flu.  Whenever she delivered a novel, she’d come down with something flu-like where all she could do was sit in front of the TV for three days.

I’ve experienced this, particularly when it’s a novel that’s contracted, that I don’t want to write, and I have to MAKE myself write.  When I’m done, I have “flu like” stuff last a week or two.  I never know whether that is because I’ve been pushing the sickness till I can “afford to get ill” or if it’s my mind taking it out on my body.

I do know that the one time we had the money – after I finished Plain Jane – instead of launching into my normal clean up operations of the house that has waited till the book was done, I DEMANDED Dan take me to Denver for two nights.  (Had to go away, or had to clean.)  And when I came back, I did not get ill.  Mind you, all I did those two and a half days was sleep, read books and go for walks with Dan.  It was, apparently, enough.  And if the Indie thing starts making me real money, (Which of course, presupposes my feeding it!) I’ll plan that every time I finish something.  

Not this year.

This year, I need to find a balance between working hard and resting that doesn’t crash me everytime a project is done.

Not yet, I haven’t.

But I’m working on it.  And as for today, I’m going back to bed for an hour or two.  I still feel as though I can’t sleep ENOUGH.  It’s just that I’m on the way up.

It is enough for now.

124 responses to “Sick, sick, sick, sick

  1. ppaulshoward

    It’s all in *our* heads. [Wink]

      • ppaulshoward

        Nah, if I’m a solipsist, then I’m just imagining *you*. [Grin]

        • If everything was all my imagination, I would look a heckuva lot better.

          • If the mind didn’t communicate with the body, I couldn’t trigger an allergy attack by thinking about things that trigger allergy attacks. If the body didn’t affect the mind, forcing yourself to smile wouldn’t cheer you up. All kinds of body-brain things work backwards from what logically _ought_ to be.

          • Yeah. I’d be tall enough to reach the stuff on the top and almost top shelves without using a kitchen chair and would have a slightly less-efficient metabolism. And would look good in clothes sporting large floral and abstract prints. :)

        • Actually my dog Spot is a solipsist, and he’s imagining all of us.

          The intriguing thing about this is that I haven’t got a dog, and furthermore, the dog I haven’t got is not named Spot. We are all figments of an imaginary imagination. Where will it all end?

          • [tips head to the side, looks confused] Squirrel ?!?

            • Whatever. As long as he doesn’t put a blanky on my head and make me doubt my own existence, we’re fine.

            • I think the source of the imagination is a cat belonging to my friend Schroedinger! Shall I open his box to ask if he’s imagining us?

              • NO! What if you collapse the waveform and he’s dead? Then we’re all doomed, doomed, I tells ya!

              • Have you read Pratchett’s The Unadulterated Cat? If not, you SHOULD. Havey is an evil villain’s cat. D’Artagnan is a cartoon cat. Havey suffers from impatient legs. Euclid suffers from elevator butt.

                • Oh yeah – that was back when I first learned about ordering from Amazon.UK … we also got a number of Tony “Baldrick” Robinson’s readings of Pratchett’s Discworld novels … abridged, regrettably: each fitted to a double-cassette but nonetheless delightful. Beloved Spouse';s only complaint is that it is dangerous driving while doubled over in laughter.

              • I actually have a Heisenberg cat. I have pictures of her warping space-time to prove it.

                Go ahead. TELL me you can know where she is and where she’s going all at the same time.

                M

  2. Way back when I took Philosophy 101 I learned about The Inconsistent Tetrad, a group of four statements in which any three, but not all four, could be logically correct:
    • The human body is a material thing.
    • The human mind is a spiritual thing.
    • Mind and body interact.
    • Spirit and matter do not interact.

    For whatever reason this has preyed upon my imagination over the years. Upon being diagnosed as having Type II Diabetes I learned that one of the symptoms is increased irritability (not that I am irritable — no living person can claim that I am), a fact that seems to indicate that the body affects the spirit, even though we are inclined to believe personality is an aspect of who we are, not what we are. (Chalker played some games with this in his Flux & Anchor series.) So, be we bodies with souls or souls with bodies?

    OTOH, I need more coffee before pushing further into metaphysics. I do not find it surprising that you might be subconsciously aware of impending marshaling of microscopic enemies within, preparing mass assault on your health, nor of a build-up of leukocytes manning your defences. It certainly falls within the realm of possibility that awareness of such assault might occur when your defenses are demoralized. Whatever. More coffee.

    • RES – I used to believe those four things too. I now know that the mind is the body. and that spirit and matter do interact. it was a very hard lesson for me. I am still learning it.

      Cyn

    • *ponders those four*

      And only two of those statements are testable in reality. The other two are assertions that have a null value for testing in any scientific way. (Which means that if you eliminate “spirit” as a potential Thing of Logic, the Tetrad falls down.)

      As for me, Vitamin D seems to help my immune system a lot.

    • It’s not the type II diabetes — it’s that about the time you get old enough for type II diabetes you realize you’re surrounded by idiots.

      • No, I knew I was surrounded by idiots long before then.

        And I knew it wasn’t going to get any better at least a decade before the Type II.

        And I knew my mental faculties were fading at least five years before that.

        Maybe it is a case akin to Mae West’s response to the judge asking whether she was trying to show contempt of his court: “No, your honor, I’m doing my best to conceal it.” At some point you just don’t bother pretending others are not idiots (especially if you’re online) and give up hope of ever enlightening them.

        I did notice that after about 50 the body no longer seemed concerned about healing damage. Sorta the way you stop fretting over superficial damage to the clunker you’ve been driving …

        • You’re scaring me RES – I am 50 right now (turned 50 in August 2011)

          • I turn fifty in November…

            • November is a good time for birthdays, so long as your family respects that there is a difference between your birthday and Christmas.

              • We had great hopes of having a kid in October and one more in August. Marshall was due in October, unfortunately he chose to be born in November. And unfortunately we didn’t have any others. The plan was to have a birthday a month July through November, which would give us a reason to eat out once a month.

                • We ended up with four in September (me, son, daughter, granddaughter), one in October (wife), and one in November(other daughter), plus one in March (Timmy). My grand-daughter is going to make me a great-grand sometime this fall – hopefully NOT September.

            • Don’t worry. I’ll turn 66 in September, and I still have a few marbles left (three, I think, but it’s hard to count them, as they keep moving). My body doesn’t heal itself quite as readily as it did when I was 20, but it does heal.

          • I’ll be 52 this September. So THAT’s what’s been going on.

        • I’m a Type II Diabetic, also. I came at it the long way — I developed hypoglycemia (hyperinsulinism) back in 1982-1984. I was told I could stick to a very strict diet and possibly put off Type II Diabetes for ten to fifteen years, or I could ignore it, continue to do the things I’d been doing, and develop diabetes in five to ten years. I followed the diet (zero sugar, low carbs) as best I could, and it was probably twenty years before I started having symptoms, another five years after that before I was diagnosed.

          I was the “healthy” one in our family, and my younger brother was the sickly one. When I DID get sick, it was either one of the regular childhood diseases (I had most of them — mumps, whooping cough, measles, etc.) or something really, really bad. I had smallpox when I was a little over a year old, and I’ve had pneumonia seven times — four of them requiring hospitalization. I had something in Panama the doctors never did diagnose, but I spent five days in a fevered sleep, and lost 30 pounds.

          I have learned that the mind has greater control over the body than most people, including doctors and priests, are willing to admit. Our minds frequently do give us warnings (which are most often ignored), and can control the extent of our responses to what goes on around us. This is one of the reasons prayer can heal — those that believe in its power are strengthened by the thought of others praying for them. I don’t have a rational explanation why prayer works for some who don’t believe, but then, religion never was about “practical” things.

        • Don’t let him scare y’all. My dad was (I think) 55 when he broke his ankle really badly, and we had to buy him a Rubik’s Cube (they had just come out, so no one had solved them yet) just to keep him in the house for 3 weeks.

          After he solved it, all on his own, he was out the door (and once got his cast stuck under the brake pedal in his truck), and back to work a few weeks later.

          • When I was a kid my dad broke his ankle. Since he couldn’t work he of course wanted to go hunting. I recall seeing him take some spectacular headers when his crutches got tangled up in the blackberry briars :) but once they gave him a walking cast (and my mom made a leather bootie to protect his toes) he was unstoppable.

    • My apologies, Ladies: I had forgotten that, according to ubiquitous Western myth, for most of your post-pubescent existence all of your “moods” are attributed to “hormones.” So the idea of a disjunction between mind & body is one of the shackles of your oppression, delegitimizing your mentation on account of your menstruation.

  3. Sarah –
    I used to believe that sickness was in my head. I would walk it off or if I had the stomach flu, I used the power of my mind to get back up after two or three days… And then, I became ill with Vasculitis. First my eyes went red for a couple of months. None of my doctors could figure out what was wrong.

    And then my kidneys failed. I went from a physically fit woman (I walked every day, I hiked to castles in Germany) to not being able to move. My husband had to carry me to the bathroom.

    What I am saying is that my break point was 41 years old. It might be a good thing if you are starting to feel weakness that you should get a physical. Look into auto-immune diseases. We seem to have some of the same genetic families –

    I wish I had known the weaknesses in my body before I became this ill. I might have been able to get better without the amount of chemo. Or not. I have changed my mind drastically – the mind can tell us when our bodies have problems.

    Yours – Cyn

  4. Very glad to hear you’re feeling better. And I’m also glad to hear you know not to push. This is the time it’s so tempting to try to get back to a normal work load, and all we wind up doing is getting sick all over again. (Yes, been there, learned it the hard way.)

    So take it easy for a day or two more, no matter how much it may drive you crazy. Indulge. The house will survive (mine certainly has).

    And yeah, Cyn, I really felt it crossing forty – that’s when I found I wasn’t invulnerable and my body couldn’t bounce back the way it used to. Eating right and getting enough sleep and some exercise have become necessities and when I slip on any of them, I don’t function well. (Though it sounds like you’ve been hit much harder than most, Cyn. You do sound in control.)

    • Thanks Laurie – At least a semblance of control *snort
      It can get crazy sometimes especially when the body and meds start having problems. I don’t always notice like I should.

  5. “Spirit and matter don’t interact.” That one, I don’t believe.

  6. I didn’t notice it myself, but sometime in my teens, I was eating everything in sight one day, and my mother told me, looks like you’re going to be sick. I asked why, and she said, “Whenever you’re about to get sick, you start eating like a horse”. I suppose it was my body’s reaction to the first signs of a developing illness.

    Rest up as much as you reasonably can, then a little more.

  7. I think you’re actually feeling incipient illness when you feel that ‘thin layer of health over illness’ thing, and conversely this time you felt your impending recovery.

    Illness affects the body in multiple ways. Decreases in vitamin and levels are one example. I hypothesize you’ve become sensitive to such subtle beginning symptoms.

    Btw, you’re imagining Drak, who only imagines he imagined you. So get well, or stay well or we might need somebody else to post comments on the bar.

    • I imagine that i am imagining Sarah imagining Drak imagining Sarah imagining me imagining Drak …

      Fears of Zero
      A bit late for Halloween, but think of this as alternative to The Raven.

      —————
      Late.
      Late at night.
      When the world sleeps.
      And I am here alone.
      And here I come some nights to confront my fears.
      They’re here…my fears.
      They are always with me.
      Lurking, scurrying, hiding, and waiting.
      They come!
      And they go.
      Though they are gone they are never far
      and here alone at night I can confront them.
      There they are…confronted fears!
      Fears of hunger, fears of pain, fears of missing the last train.
      Fears of dentists always drilling, fears that no one will be willing…
      to see me as I know I really am.
      Once they are counted and compelled…they can quickly be dispelled…
      Like figments of my own imagination.

      But always, there are other fears.
      Fears of snakes, fears of cats,
      fears of maītre d’s and rats.
      An irrational black terror…
      that someday I may get fat.
      Fear of elevators falling, and the taxman someday calling
      And the accidental walling of myself up inside a clammy, dank, old, dingy cellar where the spiders weave around my tummy
      And the worms, and bugs and crawly things squirm and squiggle at my person. (Oh, I love it!)
      Once they are counted and compelled, they can quickly be dispelled…

      But then there are other fears.
      Fears of bullets, there’s a dread.
      Fear of baldness on the head.
      Fear of waking up one morning, to discover that you are dead.
      Once they are counted and compelled, they can quickly be dispelled…
      Like figments of my own imagination.

      Then there is the last fear.
      Just about the time I’m past fear.
      The one that really is final.
      It will come.
      Yours…and mine’ll.
      In the darkest of the night
      it will come without a fight.
      It will count me and compel me.
      It will casually dispel me.
      For I am just a figment of its own imagination.
      [ http://anightintheforest.blogspot.com/2011/11/fears-of-zero.html ]

      • Oh, thank you! I was looking for that very bit of verse only yesterday, and not having any luck. Ah, the late, great Jerry Juhl.

        • I hope you followed the link to find the video of Zero Mostel’s rendering it avec Muppets.

          • But of course! And so should everyone.

            Once I had a title to work from, I could do a YouTube search. Here is a version with a bit better video quality:

  8. I’m glad your on the mend. The comment threads have been a lot of fun this week as we kept you entertained and resting :)

    • Yes. You’re all incredibly amusing.

      • thumbs up! (all five of them)

      • But today we seem to be a bit to quiet, we falling down on the job and need to liven up the place.

        Now where did I put the cream pies and the pudding cannon?

        • Potato cannons

          • How about a potato trebuchet? No volatile or explosive chemicals needed (though they ARE fun).

          • Spud gun, spud gun, spud gun! [trots off in search of a bit of PVC pipe and some hair spray]

          • Hmm if we fired them through a blade grid and then into a vat of hot oil… does anyone have a grav feild generator so we could have a bubble of fry oil suspended in the air just after the grid? Just need to get the trajectories right…

          • Oh geez – my hubby and his friend (both in electronics) were firing spud guns on base (coast guard actually) and almost got themselves in trouble. The spud gun fired pretty far. Thankfully the coast guard there couldn’t triangulate.

          • you we need some dessert to go with the fries/chips and breaded meat chucks flying through the floating fry oil bath.

            Anyone got a good food safe pump system strong enough to get a good arching stream in batter? I bet we could do funnel cake or churos (sp?) And make a duplicate of the saltfall to dispense cinimon sugar instead…

            • There is only one dessert item suitable to launching through the deep-fry falls: Twinkies.

              • I’m sorry to have to disagree. While it is not as free of nutritional value as Twinkies, “Mexican” fried ice cream is a true sybaritic pleasure: Ice cream in a ball, rolled in Graham Cracker crumbs and cinnamon sugar, then deep fried and drizzled with honey. Oh. My. God.

                • I’m holding out for TX state fair deep fried butter.

                  • Laura Runkle

                    Erm, The Iowa State Fair deep-fried butter wasn’t bad at all. But the chocolate dipped bacon was better. Enough better that we’ve recreated it on special occasions.

                    • Oh, My. I totally had chocolate-dipped bacon last weekend. It was addictive. I could have eaten the whole bag someone brought to the cookout, but I was a good boy and only had about four slices.

                    • This really tastes good???? I wouldn’t put the two together.

                    • oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooh I must do this!

                    • I’m with Cyn, I like bacon and chocolate, but wouldn’t have put the two together. (this from a guy who used to put hot sauce on chocolate bars, just to see people’s reaction)

                    • Milk chocolate or Dark? One sounds disgusting, one sounds … tempting.

                    • In the section of the candy aisle in our local grocery stores where they keep the “fancy” chocolates, you can buy chocolate bars with hot chile pepper powder in them. I tried them once, and they were not bad, but the chocolate was a little more bitter than I prefer – it was very dark.

                      Now, regarding the chocolate and bacon thing, I’ve seen where someone makes a chocolate bar that is filled with bacon bits, but the bacon and chocolate I had last weekend was bacon strips with about a 1/4-3/8 inch strip of chocolate down one side. Very good.

                    • How dark the chocolate Wayne?
                      And one of the best deserts I EVER had was Japaleno white chocolate mousse.

                    • That explains. There was a moment when I thought that Dyce was going to enjoy her Jalapeno white chocolate mousse more than Officer Hotstuff Wolfe. (There are only two common human pastimes that actively involve all five of the senses, and eating is one of them.)

                    • I’m not sure the package said, but it seemed pretty much like the 70% cocoa bars nearby.

                    • Dark, of course.

        • Today the hits are low. Apparently people aren’t riveted by my health update. Who knew?

          I must go clean the bathroom. Then I’ll feel better. (And yes, that is weird.)

  9. Yes. You’re all incredibly amusing.
    See there, we are helping! Laughter IS the best medicine! Heck, it even helps the rest of the world look better to us.

  10. I just found an item in my spam filter from Become A Behavioral Therapist, subject lined: “Therapists can help resolve issues. Become one.”

    Why are they encouraging me to become an issue? Or do they think I’m eager to revert to toddlerhood? This is so confusing!! I appreciate a spam filter that protects me from such quandaries.

    • Your’s is more interesting than mine. I only get penis enlargements ad *sigh…

      • I didn’t think many gals needed help enlarging those.

      • I get these, too. Plus all these Russian women want to meet me, for some reason.

          • Laura Runkle

            Hey, I don’t just have Russian women who want to meet me. They also want to do unspeakable things to/with me. Sent to my work e-mail address. Which is the contact point for a church. But I also get lots of people wanting to help me with my ED, and many people each day who write to me, “Beloved in Christ, do not be sad for me, for I shall soon be in a better place.”

            • Oh wow – I get the Dearly Beloved too –
              And the EDs, and the you can be a winner too… Or was that Publisher’s Clearing House?

              • Damn. I get car ads. In turkish.

                • This just in: Ebony Granny Porn. EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

                • Okay, guys, this one do not listen to in front of kids — though they probably wouldn’t get it. But if there were a song about my spam, it would be this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sxYVBNhJ3pc&feature=results_video&playnext=1&list=PL94B3C7106F7EFACE

                  • Oh, yeah, it plays a bunch of things afterwards, but I just meant the first song. The first time I heard it (no, you really don’t WANT to know) I was in between shock and laughter. Now there’s a whole class of ads I call “Girl on girl on girl on guy on sheep.”

                  • Listening to that reminded me: A nurse dressed like a Smurf freaked my wife out once (No, nothing like that, Sheesh! She had a high fever -partially delirious – and we went to the doctor’s office on Halloween. The other nurse dressed as one of the doctors, complete with drawn-on mustache REALLY messed with her head).

                    • Just when did Halloween stop being a kids holiday, or have “adults” given up on growing up???

                      Besides, everybody knows nurses are supposed to dress up as strippers for Halloween. Or slutty librarians, I forget. … Daleks?

                    • “Slutty Daleks”? Um, have you taken your temperature this morning? :-)

                    • Oh, I dunno – I don’t see any reason for the adults to not have fun, too. As long as they don’t go Trick-or-Treating for themselves, of course.

                      As far as Nurses dressing as strippers – this was a family Doctor’s office, and they probably felt that would be a bit much for the kiddies to be “exposed” to, if you’ll pardon the pun.

                      Best costume ever, though, was the one going around Facebook a while back, of the one-legged woman dressed up as the Stripper Leg Lamp from A Christmas Story.

                    • OMG. That would have made me run screaming, PARTICULARLY after that song.

                  • Kirsty MacColl wrote a lovely, if slightly salacious song, Here Comes That Man Again, for her last album. I include the words are below, you can find a recording at:

                    Here comes that man again
                    It’s always round midnight
                    That Amsterdam creeps into my PC
                    After a long hard day selling pornography
                    He likes to come home and talk to me
                    He’s got his mind on the job but
                    His technological props
                    Oops, another file on the email
                    And though I’m scared to click open
                    I just can’t help having a look

                    Oh, here comes that man again
                    A car crash in my psyche
                    My curiosity’s driving me
                    Yes here he comes again
                    Who’d have thought I’d have as much fun
                    With an anonymous Dutchman?
                    I never knew I had it in me
                    He says the camera is on and
                    Can I see him yet?
                    I say “Babe you look like a ghost
                    And sound like a Dalek to me”
                    So let’s go back to the written word
                    Even though we both know it’s absurd

                    Here comes that man again
                    Here comes that man again
                    Here comes that man again

                    Here comes that man again
                    He knows that I’m online
                    “Knock knock, who’s there?”
                    It’s just a matter of time
                    Here comes millenium man
                    Rum and coke in one hand
                    And in the other…
                    Is that a mouse a see?
                    Although when I tell him he’s corny
                    It seems to make him quite horny
                    And through the cyberspace
                    I watch the rapture on his face
                    Yes while his girlfriend is sleeping
                    His sexuality’s peeking
                    Here comes that man again
                    After a long hard day
                    He likes to come home and talk to me
                    He says it’s something he needs
                    He can’t stop spilling the seeds
                    God bless European unity
                    And all those who never sleep

                    Sha la la la la, get your rocks off baby
                    Sha la la la la, get your rocks off baby
                    Sha la la la la, get your rocks off
                    Another stain on another blue dress

                    Sha la la la la, get your rocks off baby
                    Sha la la la la, get your rocks off baby
                    Sha la la la la, get your rocks off
                    Yes, yes

        • Did I ever tell you guys of the day when I got spam for breast enlargement, spam for penis enlargement, spam about sex with farm animals (WHAT?) and spam on a cure for athlete’s foot. So, I figured I was an hermaphrodite, with foot fungus and into sex with animals… EW!

        • Some tart named Erika keeps offering me her “sexy pictures.” I keep wondering: why Erika? Why not Enid, Ethel, Martha, Agatha or Bessie?

          Back when I was a Communications major we were required to take a class on the First Amendment, one session of which entailed viewing a porn film. You could tell the Film majors in the class because they were busy criticizing the lighting, camera angles, lens choices, film-stock and ignoring the humping. (The Theatre majors criticized other aspects.)

          • Dan got a truly bizarre one of these, I mean it’s a whole story complete with “Remember when.” He was so taken with it, he printed it and brought it to the bedroom — where I was blamelessly editing in bed — and read it aloud to me. With GESTURES. This thing went on for two and a half pages — I’ve since got one as well — I don’t know what they expect to accomplish. The language is also unintentionally funny. And we think they failed to establish sympathy with the voice character, and…

      • I get offers to assist 1) members of African royalty, 2) the widows of physicians who made fortunes in Singapore 3) the head of the FBI, 4) the head of MI6, 5) African government officials and 6) UN workers in preserving their hard-earned fortunes by allowing them to use my bank account as a funds transfer depot. Or to claim my windfall/lottery/ inheritance. Note that these all come to my academic/professional e-mail account, suggesting that the scammers have no clue about the contents of the average teacher’s or professor’s bank account.

        • Sounds as if they have a realistic evaluation of the average teacher’s or professor’s credulity, though.

          TXRed is clearly not the average teacher or professor.

        • Ah, I have gotten the African royalty one also, and on my phone (which isn’t supposed to accept text messages) I get the one from Walmart for a $1000 free gift card at least twice a month.

          My spam filter is apparantly pretty good (and I never look in the spam folder) and I don’t usually get any of the other ones. But my uncle will forward the ones that he gets that are really funny. The best was one for a citizens border patrol squad, complete with picture of squad (topless women in camo pants with guns, in the desert). It was asking for volunteers :)

        • Sounds like social engineers who got their degrees from that place that used to advertise on matchbook covers.

      • Krasinski’s Law. That’s the little-known law that causes men to get breast-enlargement spam and women to get penis-enlargement spam.

    • They always tell me that I SHOULD become a social worker. Me. A social worker. What about my profile tells them THAT?

  11. I’ve gotten three or four lately telling me NOT to e-publish, but to turn my writing over to them (some literary agency I’ve never heard of, and that doesn’t come up on a Google search). They get dumped just as readily as the Nigerian bank scams and the FBI informant scams.

  12. You’re all just a bunch of transient skandas.

  13. So that’s where all the good spam goes. All I get is facebook phishing and invitations to check my credit score.

  14. I hope your health becomes so boringly good that you’ll never think to blog anything but gratitude about it. One thing I do on the tail end of a cold/flu/pneumonia is start noticing improvements. At some point I notice I feel good, and it feels very good to feel good after not doing so for a couple weeks.

  15. Free-range Oyster

    Apropos of nothing: a vignette on pedantic, flame-warring writers. http://ffn.nodwick.com/?p=1081
    Not that any of *us* would ever wax pedantic over diction or punctuation, noooooo! :D

  16. Unable to read all 98 comments that were posted before me. Because I know what you’re talking about with that “thin layer between well and not”. And I’m on the “unwell” side right at this moment.

    The rest of what you posted is very interesting. I didn’t know about the “writers flu”. Though… I think I’ve experienced it. I just assumed it was part of my normal health fluctuations. But as 90% of my hobbies are related to expressing creatively, I will have to keep track of it and see if it’s directly tied for me too. I’ve been extremely prolific on the artist side of me the last several days – a side of me that is generally not prolific lately – so…

    Train of thought derailed.

    • Well, okay, but when you have time to go through the comments, we SOMEHOW got on a spam jag, which caused me to post the DaVinci notebook’s song “internet porn.”

      So, if you hit that point, you ARE NOT DELIRIOUS. We’re REALLY that weird. :)

  17. For fun and entertainment while recovering, you can always play mind games with spammers. A good starting tutorial is “The Good the Spam and the Ugly” by Steve Graham. Not that I know anything about such devious endevors…

  18. Laura Runkle

    I notice in the comments that nobody’s commented on prodromes. Which officially are the non-specific fever and icky feeling could be anything days before the really nasty specific symptoms hit. But almost always, one of the prodrome symptoms is “feeling of unease.” Ya think? So one of my first questions is whether we could build in a feeling of ease…