My father was a big believer in short cuts and back country roads. These are absolute opposites in central and northern Kentucky. I’m not saying you’ll necessarily get there any faster on I75 — what with all of the construction, accidents, and speed traps — but it is the straight route. The back roads will definitely add miles to your trip. Hilly, curvy miles.
I have a long long history of ear infections, so no surprise that in the days before car a/c I got carsick a lot . My mom would dose me to the gills with Dramamine if we were going farther than the grocery store or school (maybe 2 miles from home).
One Christmas at my grandparents’ I got the usual fistful of pills as we readied to cross the river to visit extended family in Dayton or Hamilton. Someplace in Ohio. We’re related to every other German Catholic family up there, so really could have been any town or city within forty miles of the river.
Anyway, we didn’t go at the planned time. Half of my family is hyper time aware, like me, and the other half allow themselves up to twelve hours leeway. So we were waiting for some group to get it together. And the longer we waited, the spacier (ohemgee you should see what all autofill and autocorrect just put me through) I got: dizzy to the point of reeling into walls, blurred vision, ringing in my ears, all other sound muffled and distant, and finally puking. So by the time everybody was ready, I had to stay behind and sleep it off.
I’m pretty sure Dramamine and similar products give me vertigo. And I absolutely never ever take them now that I’m a grownup and can make my own rules. And take the interstate with a/c set to “meat locker”.
I worry that Benedryl, my dear old friend who was with me all of those summer days of childhood when, after playing outside for maybe half an hour, my eyes would swell shut and then the next week and a half to two weeks were spent in a dark cool bedroom with a wet cloth across my eyes (and dripping into my ears). And Benedryl was there for me, usually with his odd cousin, prednisone.
Maybe if my father hadn’t built our swing set behind the garage where the poison ivy grew . . . maybe if he had stuck to the interstate . . .
Anyway. I’ve really been packin’ away the Benedryl since my fun in the weeds on Monday (never exceeding the max dose). Yesterday I diagnosed myself with malaria (hot, sweaty, felt feverish without actually having a fever, generally achy and tired and sore). I told my PA friend, so that makes it medically okay.
Today I almost got as far as I64 and thought, “There’s at least an 85% chance I’m gonna hurl before I get to work.” So I u-ied and went home and texted my boss and put my hair up and sat on the bathroom floor like I’m 23. And puked and puked and puked. Cleaned up. Tried to get comfy on the couch. Put my hair back again and ran to the bathroom and dry heaved for a couple of minutes.
So is it malaria? (Probably not.) Maybe gallbladder or diverticulitis. Or a heart attack, because the symptoms for women are so similar to GI issues, like someone got the blueprints confused in the planning stage.
Or is today a reaction to too many antihistamines? Or yesterday’s 97% humidity? Or the vile toxins from the various weeds and whatever the mosquitoes are carrying these days — which maybe brings us back to malaria after all.
Comments