Fever

So today I got to utilize one of my newly re-instituted benefits . . . vision insurance.  I get vision via my bargaining unit of UUP, so I'm stoked.  Not so stoked that I've got my first cold of fall, had to schelpt to Kew Gardens, spend time in Jamaica, and get out of bed today.  But, I am stoked that even with my fever ridden self I got to spread my special breed of germs along the subway lines from Astoria to Kew Gardens while feverishly running to Davis Vision.  Why? I broke my glasses earlier this week, so life was not as crisp as it could be.  No fear, the hinge on the old purple pair is repaired and the new pair should be in next week.  Rest assured, fever or not I will trot myself over to pick up the new specs.  The doctor asked my age, and he was more than taken aback that I am not twenty-four.  Nice, subtract a decade from me . . . it's all good.  He noted the I looked flushed and glowing like a twenty-something.  Perhaps, it was the fever showing.   

I will say that jaunting across town with a temperature that would take everyone else to the hospital is not the best way to fend off a cold.  What? My medical benefits do not go into effect until 15 October--which is a diatribe for another day--and I get to tread the waters of health until then.  I'm fairly certain that this is a standard cold as I am not peeing green, sneezing purple, or hallucinating that I'm living in happily wedded bliss.  Just sayin'.  There is an upside to today . . . I got to air myself out, much like mothers aired their babies for daily walks at the turn-of-the-century, with the trotting between subway lines.  More so, this airing--per so--mostly occurred in Jamaica.  This is good since I live in Astoria, and Jamaica is my least favorite section of Queens.  Yup, leave my germs with them.  I am sure they do the same here; or they would like to but don't because they are more respectful than me.  This is probably the spot I should tell you that I celebrated eighteen years by blowing my thick snot into pink tissues and buying a Dunkin' Donuts latte for the subway ride (loaded with enough sugar to induce a diabetic coma, I don't think the counter girl likes me).  Yup folks, you guessed it.  Lupus didn't let me choose to greet year eighteen with the bird and a nuisance pie, instead my body welcomed a fleet of mucus membranes to invade my lungs and leak out my nostrils.  I am so selling sexy right now, aren't I?

As I exited the E, waited for the number seven, so I could transfer to the N/Q toward Ditmars I thought that perhaps my fever induced run had shielded me from insanity.  I had breathed that sigh of relief to soon, as this is my life.    

Somewhere along this course I encounter a Greek man, in the Astoria domain I should say.  Should I remark that he tells me more than once that I have a glow about me? Yea, that glow most likely stemmed from the fever, and not a growing fever for him.  We chat.  We walk to have coffee (for him) and tea (for me, the sicky McGee).  A couple of hours later I quickly see his mask begin to crack, and the gleam in his eyes waivers, as he tells me he has a wife.  No, he is not separated from his wife.  Nope.  He wants to "date" me as his mistress since she doesn't "fulfill" him anymore.  Excuse me, while I remind you that I do not begin a relationship as the other woman unless I am foiled into doing so.  Nope, you need to lie to me, make me believe I am your one and only, and break my heart, ego, sense of self-respect, and sanity when I discover your wife, girl-friend, or fiancee.  No siree, I do not begin the tango with the knowledge of being the other woman.  No fever of love will ever make me that stupid.

And . . . sitting in traffic yesterday to see someone I'd rather not at the moment and his blond next to me should have been a sign of the fever to come.  Seriously, I freakin' live in a town of eight--or so--million and I still have that kind of chance encounter?  Talk about f-ed up karma.  In retrospect, when I finished teaching yesterday and saw him attempt to hide his heart attack from her my fever was slowly rising.  A night of fitful dreams, and NyQuil induced sleep, didn't do much for my psyche.  Instead, I showered my fever soaked self, shook off his memory, slid into a sweater, and headed to the eye doctor.  The fever of a misbegotten night, a jacked up moment in traffic, and the very real early autumn cold had to be temporarily quelled for the sake of sight.  The sight that my eyes might need glasses but the Lupus hasn't attacked them.  C'est bonne, je dis!  Nope, the Lupus just likes my kidneys and heart, so I can say we can score one for team Nessa!  So, leaving the house and traipsing across Knickerbocker land with a fever produced something beneficial.  Here's to a fever baby!