Shoes, Ships, and Sealing Wax

Death Sofa

I had the measles when I was in college. (Apparently the vaccine in use when I was a baby wore out.) At first I just had what I thought was the flu, until I got a rash. My mother frowned, said "It looks like the measles," and sent me to the doctor. When I called for an appointment, the nurse said "Nobody gets measles any more." I went in anyway, and spent an hour and a half in the waiting room, feeling like I'd been hit by a truck. I still remember this: my eyes and head hurt so much I couldn't stand to read, and 90 minutes is a long time to just sit in a crowded waiting room.

The physican's assistant examined me and said "I don't think you have the measles." A doctor said "Measles is pretty unusual." Then another doctor came it, took one quick look at the rash on my chest and said "Oh yeah, you have the measles. You haven't been around anyone else, have you?"

When the technican came in to draw my blood (to verify the diagnosis...they compared the antibodies to another blood draw a few weeks later to confirm it really was measles. I think I was even reported to the CDC.), she wore a full Tyvek suit and a face shield. When they let me leave, they gave me a surgical mask and told me to take the fire stairs to exit the building. I've always wondered if any of the 300 other patients in the waiting room that morning ever got it, too.

I went home and moaned to the dog about how crappy I felt. (I am a big baby when I'm sick, as I have mentioned before.) My brother was in junior high then; when he got home, I started whining to him. He ignored me to go call mom (as a latchkey child, he had to check in every afternoon), and I heard him say "How's Nic? Apparently, she's on her death sofa."

The Death Sofa became a family joke.

I decided to take to the Death Sofa (which is actually a Death Loveseat...if it weren't so damn cold in the basement, I'd consider the Death Recliner so I could watch some tv) today. I have piles upon piles of work to get done before December 31, but the last few days I've been working at about 60% capacity. I'm reading reports without comprehension. I'm having to look up conversion formulas I know by heart. I'm hoping that a day of real rest, coupled with the antibiotic kicking in, will bring me closer to normal when I do go back to work tomorrow. But for now, I still feel like crap.

And why am I writing this?

Because when I whine to the dog, she leaves the room.

Posted by Nic at December 15, 2004 09:40 AM