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6:12 a.m. - 2001-04-27

UNCLE BOB LOOOOOOOVES HIS DRUGS

The verdict is in.

I have ...

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... BRONCHITIS.

(Dramatic "DUM DUM DUM DUMMMMM!!" music plays)

My campaign manager called me about 8 a.m. yesterday. When I answered the phone she said "Good God...you're not even up yet?"

I had been up for three hours. My voice sounded like shit.

Anyway...SHE told me not to go to work yesterday. Technically, I would have only been there a few hours anyway, then I had to go to the golf tournament.

So whatever she says is what I do. I called work up and said "I feel like shit. I won't be in today."

Cool by them. They don't want my sick ass there anyway.

I told Leanne that I would show up at the golf tournament at 4 p.m. to thank everyone for coming out and supporting me and the Cancer Society. She said that's fine, but if I didn't feel like it, don't push it.

By 1:00, my fever was 100.9.

I laid there on the couch moaning. It coulda been the result of watching "My Best Friend's Wedding" all the way through, but I'm chalking it up to the pain.

Went to Pri-Med. They gave me shit about my insurance, which they ALWAYS do and which I ALWAYS win.

"Call the number on the back of the card if you have any questions," I say.

They do.

Then they always apologize.

As it turns out, the doctor that saw me at Doc in the Box was a brand new doctor!

Wheeeeeee!!

And not just brand new in this location...fresh out of med school!!

Double Wheeeeeeee!!

"Hey Doc...do you mind taking the tongue depressor outta my ass?"

Sorry. I've got a problem with young doctors diagnosing me.

Anyway ... the guy looks at me, asks me some questions and says "You look awful".

Thanks Doc. 'Preciate it.

He then says "I think you have pneumonia. Let's take some blood tests."

Now then ... I've never had pneumonia. But I knew I didn't want it. I pictured myself laying in a hospital bed, trying to run a newspaper and a Big Rat campaign while coughing up buckets o' phlegm.

They took the blood test. I'll admit it right here, right now ... I have really become a WUSS when it comes to taking blood these days.

I made the nurse take it out of my hand. A vein in the back of my hand. Something about the inside of my elbow getting the needle royally freaks my ass out.

Had a couple of chest x-rays.

Bronchitis.

Heh.

I could have dragged that out longer ... but my drugs are kicking in.

I'm taking two anti-biotics and a narcotic cough syrup thingie.

The combination of the three ... HEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

I'm high as a freakin' kite, baybeeee!!!

...Naturally, I'll pass out here in a few minutes, forehead hitting the corner of the desk and blood spurting everywhere.


So anyway...I NEVER made it to my own damned golf tournament yesterday.

But we made $2,561.

Which isn't much if you ask me. A lot of work went into this thing for that amount of money. We had to pay the golf course, the restaurant that catered the tournament, the beer people, etc.

So I guess I should be thrilled I made that much.

So why aren't I?


Tonight...bronchitis or no bronchitis, I have to dress up like a gangster and go rob restaurants.

I'm trying to round up a bullhorn today to use in these restaurants.

I'm "supposed" to stay in bed all day (Newbie Doc orders) ... but I've got too much to do. I don't have TIME to be sick, bucko.

You know what's REALLY gonna suck? If I bust my ass tonight, feverish, coughing, sputtering ... and STILL lose this contest.

I don't plan on winning. I really don't. But since I have no idea how much everyone else has made (it's all a secret until next Thursday), I could be winning right now.

Man.

I love these drugs. I just got another wave of drug-induced goofiness.


I went to bed at 10 last night, didn't fall asleep until 2 and got up at 6.

About 11:20, I started to fall asleep when I realized...I wasn't breathing.

This brought on what I can only determine as a panic attack. My ass was severely freaked out and I laid there, telling myself "You have to keep breathing, you must keep breathing."

I laid there and prayed to God to not let me die.

God listens to me. Last weekend, I told Him to take Andy's sickness and give it to me.

He did.

Of course...Andy just had a freakin' cold...I get bronchitis.

Thanks God. 'Preciate it.

Okay.

I'm officially delerious. I coulda sworn I just heard Susie in the den talking to Andy and they're both still asleep in bed.

I need to go enjoy this buzz.

Love ya.

Mean it.

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