A Flea and A Fly in a Flue…

A flea and a fly in a flue
Were imprisoned, so what could they do?
Said the fly, “let us flee!”
“Let us fly!” said the flea.
So they flew through a flaw in the flue.
–Ogden Nash

I have the flu, apparently.

I woke up yesterday feeling fine, and wrote eighteen poems for the other site. (Yes, writing is a compulsion.) By dinner time, I noticed that my appetite was gone, and that my body was having problems regulating temperature — i.e., that I had a fever. I started coughing when I got home. So I went to bed, and slept horribly.
When I was in my twenties, among other health issues, I had a hyperactive immune system that was killing healthy cells. Since the doctors were unable to stop it through medicine, they started taking out immune organs (the spleen first) until my body quit overdoing it. It was a tremendous relief at the time, but it means that I don’t get over illnesses as rapidly as might be ideal for someone of my age and general health.
In other words, I’m liable to have the flu for a while, although it’s possible I’ll recover sooner.
They told me, almost thirty years ago when all of this happened, that I would have an unusually large chance of dying from pneumonia. Since I am a professional statistician (an actuary, technically), these kinds of facts don’t bother me: my “increased chances” of dying are less than my “increased chances” of dying because I’m male rather than female.
Males are, after all, biologically inferior to females when it comes to survivorship. #JustAFactNotAPoliticalStatement #IThink

I doubt I’ll be writing much the next few… days? weeks? As I’m having some trouble focusing. My old fallback of iPad video games is liable to be my primary time-waster, and, given that I’m terrible at video games (and virtually all other kinds of games), it should occupy me indefinitely. I’m not sure what I’m going to do about work, although my employer is probably the most enlightened one in existence and works with employees through all kinds of physical and mental illnesses as a matter of course.

And yes, I realize that I’m very fortunate in this. I’m fortunate in most things.

Incidentally, I included the poem at the top, not just for the fact that “flue” and “flu” are english homonyms, but as a memory of the sorts of things my mother would do to cheer us up when we were sick. I can remember her reading to me from a book of Ogden Nash poems when I was sick with the flu at maybe eight years old.

I always thought he was great. Still do.


Author: Sibelius Russell

Sibelius Russell (a/k/a/ Owen "Beleaguered" Servant) lives a life of whimsical servitude -- whatever that means.

2 thoughts on “A Flea and A Fly in a Flue…”

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