Editor Note: In light of the killer flu making its rounds of the US and Canada, we give you one of our staff writer’s views on being sick.
The Walking Dead
By Gini Koch
I don’t like medical stuff. It scares me more than just a little. And yet, medical things are constantly being perpetrated upon my person. Though, from what I can tell, needlessly.
I need to find my resting pulse. Because, as near as I can tell, I’ve misplaced it somewhere.
See, I have to do this medical-type thing for insurance – to get money. Believe me, that’s the only reason why I go near medical anything. And part of the thing is that I have to figure out my resting pulse. Only…I can’t find it.
I mean, I know how to find it. I know which fingers to use and where to press and everything. They even provide clear instructions with pictures. And unless you’re supposed to press so hard you stop the flow of blood completely, I’m doing it right.
Only…no pulse. At all. And yet, here I am talking, walking about, eating, sleeping, typing. All without a pulse.
So, my question is – did I turn into an undead and just don’t know it? And, if that’s what’s happened, how is it I missed all the fun stuff normally associated with this kind of transition?
I mean, no vampire swooped in, swept me off my feet, and proposed eternal life along with some serious necking. No werewolf panted up and humped my leg. I think someone would have mentioned if I’d gotten a love bite from a zombie, though the difference in the morning hours between me and a zombie is mostly skin tone. No ghostly visitations, no warlock waving his wand around, not even any witches hissing at me. I have no pulse and yet at the same time, no fun story to show for it, either.
Unlife’s not fair, is it?
Excerpted from Random Musings from the Funny Girl, copyright 2014 Jeanne Cook. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or any portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information, contact the author: email@example.com.
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