Update 3: I may be recovering. I'm not entirely sure, since I have pumped myself with so many pain killers, extra doses of morphine and copious alcohol my mental acuity and personal assessment could be just a tad off. At any rate, they do ease a nasty ailment, so relevant medical warnings can go insert a body part where it counts. I did eat today for the first time in four days, which I see as improvement. If I survive my palliatives, I may return Thursday.
Updated update: Negative on covid. Yet I still have most of the symptoms, which, thank God, only means I have anaggressive flu, which I would wish only on Donald Trump. And just to add to this comedic farce, I awoke this morning with my left cheek swollen all the way up to my eye, which makes me look like Joe Lewis after his first bout with Max Schmeling.
Update: My daughter finally dragged me to the emergency room. They tested for covid. The physician said there is a chance I have it, but he was a bit firmer with my daughter in the waiting room. He told her he wants to treat this as covid. I'll have the results in 12 to 24 hours. I still believe it's nothing more than a really nasty flu.
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I'm down for the day. I feel like Robert Kennedy must have felt after walking 50 miles on pavement in hard sole shoes on a dare from his brother John. If there's a bone in my body that doesn't ache, I don't know where it is.