Wednesday, January 9, 2013

How dry I am


When is a sneeze more than a sneeze?

When you're forty-something, have carried three babies and are a miserable failure at remembering to practice your Kegels at stoplights because that's when you check your text messages.

In which case, a sneeze is an adventure. A potentially embarrassing and damp adventure a little like juggling knives immediately after applying hand lotion. A slip could prove devastating, socially and otherwise.

Which is why I am home today. Coughing, sneezing, swallowing Ibuprofin.

I rarely got sick when I was unemployed. MathMan has kindly pointed out that it's because I rarely left the house.

Now I'm out there among the germs, but at least I have paid sick time. So there's that.

Now it's a matter of managing and mitigating the symptoms. Drink lots of liquids, they say. Oh, sure. Easy for them to say. They're not in danger of weeing themselves with each sneeze or cough.

I am unable to or refuse to take advantage of the ways the market has addressed the needs of the continence-challenged. I still can't afford the co-pay for southern rehabilitation and I'm not at all ready to leave the house wearing something named for admirable traits. Have you eyeballed those things? I've received samples in the mail and they definitely look absorbent, as in they ought to be used instead of sandbags during flood preparation.

The problem is they look like they'd feel like a brick in one's pants.

Imagine walking around making a sound like a toddler in a diaper. You know how it sounds when they run around in nothing but disposables, all bumble-bee butt and naked torso? Swish, swish. Someone might wonder why I sound as though I'm wearing corduroy when clearly I am not.

Then there's the worry of odor. Let's say I have a big sneeze in the middle of doing something like answering the phones. I can't always excuse myself immediately. Will I smell like the Washington Street station of the CTA? How will I know? My nose is so stuffed up, the only way I could tell know is by assessing the distressed looks on colleagues' faces?

By then it's too late. I've become that woman who makes a vaguely swishing sound and smells faintly of pee. Sure, it's a way to stand out, but I'd rather be known for my intelligence, competency, and ass-kicking problem-solving skills.

Which leaves me at home, watching old movies, counting Kegels, and dozing while at the mercy of the unsympathetic cats, who, by the way, have no compunction whatsoever about informing me when I'm making strange sounds or smell a bit off.

How are you avoiding the plague?

22 comments:

  1. I died. That's how many times I snorted when I should've just let myself laugh out loud. You are my hero.

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    1. See now, Bethany, if I let myself laugh too hard ---- well,....

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  2. How wet I'll be
    If I don't find
    The bathroom key...

    I remember that one from being a kid. Don't remember any bathrooms with keys, though.
    ~

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    1. You're a poet and don't even know it, Thunder!

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  3. 1. Do your Kegels; MathMan will thank you.

    2. My mom uses adult underwear and so far, I haven't smelled a thing. (And I could smell my grandmother. Word.) I haven't heard swishes, either, but Mom is moving slowly. Also, there are clothes. The difference between adults and toddlers in diapers is that adults are (usually, and let's leave Sen. Vitter out of this) wearing sound-damping clothes. The Georgia summer won't be in town for a few months. Clothing!

    3. When I go that way I intend to think of them as sanitary napkins With Capacity.

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    1. D! Clothes?

      Well now. That may explain why I've been getting those looks from the pilots. And why one of them gave me a big, fluffy robe for Christmas.

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  4. How about heavy flow sanitary pads? If they work for blood, they should hold pee -- and they won't swish.

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    Replies
    1. Hi, Nan. But they still feel like a brick in one's pants. There's no way around that bulk. And you know how short I am, right? Those things are made for women of average size. They go from my navel to my tailbone. Awkward!

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  5. I'm avoiding it unsuccessfully. i'm post today's adventure once I can focus through the meds . . .

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    Replies
    1. I'm sorry to hear you're sick, too, Sarah. What a crud this is! Feel better. Achoo!

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  6. Hells bells! Just heard on the news a local Care facility has 19 people in the hospital w the flu & my extended workplace transports them.
    I'm prepared to go into heavy germ fighting mode.... Lysol wiping "high touch" zones @ the workplace.
    Jeez! This sounds like a real kick ass flu bug making it's way cross country.
    Most cases of the flu don't land people in the hospital.
    Dayum!

    Anyway pee & menses are not the same & you might invest in some "Poise" pads. They come from short & lightweight variety on up to medium & heavy protection. Not as bulky as they are absorbent.

    It beats having random/embarrassing deluge episodes.

    Salud! (means health).... drink up amiga!




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    1. It is a nasty so and so, Fran. I went back to work today and another person was out and two were like the walking dead. We're going through hand sanitizer like crazy.

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  7. Oh lord. I don't even have a continence problem and I think I just peed myself.

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    Replies
    1. I'm glad it made you laugh, Averil. Bless you.

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  8. Hope you are better soon. I know all about the sneezing /coughing wee!

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    Replies
    1. Thanks, WendyCarole. I think the worst is behind me.

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  9. Sending virtual Kleenex - use WHEREVER necessary.

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  10. At least we don't have to worry about a sudden fright sending our testicles straight up into our abdominal cavities. I've heard it can be a problem coaxing them back down.

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    Replies
    1. susan, oh my word. Good point. I wonder how they are tempted out. Cookies, maybe?

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  11. That's some FUNNY stuff... at your expense! I love it! Hope you get to feeling better.

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    Replies
    1. Thank you, Toma. I am feeling better. Less Typhoid Lisa, more like the old goofball.

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And then you say....

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