Who Gets The Flu In July?

That would be me.

It hit without warning late Wednesday night. For several hours I was violently ill. I think I upchucked stuff I had eaten in 1989. Finally, Norma insisted I was going to the ER, and I didn't have the strength or desire to resist.

Once they had me in their clutches, the docs didn't let go for six hours. I was given fluids and anti-nausea drugs. I had a CT scan of my stomach. I threw up many times in the ER garbage can and then I came home, where I spent the next two days mostly unconscious, just as if a film editor had excised 48 hours of my life ("What do you mean it's Saturday???").

That's two ER visits in seven months. The weird thing is, earlier in the week, I got a bill from the hospital for a visit to the ER I didn't make in April. It took four phone calls until the billing department admitted somebody screwed up.

I could've just hung on to that bill.

Anyway, it was a really fun way to wrap up vacation. Forget Disneyworld, I say. Ill-fitting hospital gowns and throwing up in front of a dozen people...now that's making memories!