lived to tell the tale
I'd never met a nastier chap than Mr. Hysterectomy,
but Mr. Flu is worst to me than major surgery.
For with the one I gladly paid to have my innards removed.
But wit' the other, they came up on their own quite unwillingly.
So if you find that you don't mind who sees you hurling by the roadside,
and if your head feels like it might explodeth, leaving you for dead.
and if you would rather stay in bed
(with hips aching and back spasms)
because you feel so squeamish
hoping to sleep off your fever of over 103ish,
THEN when your dear loved one says, "Honey, maybe you should go to the doctor." for once you say only, "yesh. maybe I'll get admitted."
3 comments:
I sure hate to sit here and laugh at your plight,
That illness compels you to finally write,
But you have a way
Of making us say,
"That SG, the cleverest writer in sight,
Will certainly promise to turn out alright,
And grace us with more of her witty insight."
Welcome back?
Love,
BeckyJ
LOL...
Slowly juning around the house, rounding up a few wayward boxes (mostly of Elijah's stuff).
I hope to be back to blogging a bit! I've enjoyed yours!
That made me smile but only in a very sorry you're sick but glad you still have a sense of humor kind of way.
I'm assuming you're well now though, since you wrote this a week ago. I'm hoping at least.
Miss you!
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