Last Tuesday morning I woke up before light with flu symptoms. Really fun stuff. Persistent vomiting that went on most of four days. But it was more than that. It felt like I was exploding from the middle -- in both directions.
The few people close to me have been asking me ever since, howcum I didn't call the doctor, or drive to the emergency room. They've been full of easy solutions, of course. I didn't call the doctor because I didn't realize how sick I was -- or may have been, until it was too late. I didn't go to the emergency room because I was soon so sick I couldn't stand, and because I was too dizzy to drive.
Plus, by the time you're my age, you've been sick in these ways enough times you just take for granted the symptoms will eventually run their course, and you'll soon feel better. And anyway, I kept alternately vomiting and evacuating my bowels over a series of active sieges. I thought each was surely the final one, after which I chose to just lie on a pile of towels on the floor by the john. I'd fall asleep exhausted, then wake up after awhile feeling somewhat through. I completely lost track of time.
In fact, I apparently lost track of whole days.
Soon's I could stand up, I'd stagger into the bedroom and burrow under the covers. Each time I thought I'd outlasted the siege. But after what seemed pretty soon, I was back in the bathroom trying to decide which end to empty first. I may've slept intermittently, but I couldn't tell.
Throughout the ordeal I kept thinking: "This's gotta be the last time." But it wasn't. I've never been alone and sick before. It never occurred to me to call EMS.
Some time in the middle of the second day I thought my dizziness might be a symptom of dehydration. So I started drinking ice-cold water. That would go down and stay awhile. Then it came up. But it was so much better than dry-heaves that I continued drinking water. Could be that some stayed down and kept me from dehydrating.
It was some time during that second evening that I entered an astonishing stage of what I can only define as resounding flatulence. In fact, I'm certain I shattered some records in the areas of volume and sheer length. But I have no way of proving my stellar performance.
I must confess, I knew I was getting better because -- despite the soreness in my stomach muscles, back and shoulder joints, I had began to laugh. Forgive me, please: it's a male thing, I suppose.
I mean: I may have felt completely exhausted. My stomach muscles may have ached, felt torn from breast to pubic bone. I may have been bleary-eyed and bewildered by the intensity of the siege. But still: there is nothing quite so hilarious among boys as a fart that rolls out rich and round, long and blusterous.
Forgive me please a moment of boyish pride -- rare among septuagenarians. Most important, when the wind began to blow, I knew -- with a sense of real elation -- that the final phase of my stomach episode had finally arrived, and I had survived.
I fell asleep in bed. It was Friday noon when I woke up. I stayed in bed most of Saturday.
So much for (near) death. So what about taxes.
I spent most of Sunday and all of Monday gathering together figures for my scheduled meeting with my tax accountant. I seriously hate tax time. So, over the years I have developed a meticulous system by which I collect and record every single check I write that has implications for filing my taxes.
I develop an exhaustive file envelope for each category of deduction. Donations? Each check is stapled to its proper stub. Each check is rolled into the total figure. Each is listed according to category. Then I need only hand this carefully annotated sheet to my CPA who can then make the typewritten entries on the appropriate form.
Within an hour my CPA makes all designated entries. Finally, she hits a button, and joila! The figures roll out, and I know instantly how much money is coming back to me from the IRS and the State.
Nearly always there is some small figure owed me. I'm disappointed in my planning-budgeting process for the year if the figure coming back is too large. I see no point in granting either the state or federal government an interest-free loan.
Don't misunderstand me, please. I'm not a bit cranky about paying taxes. I love living as I have always lived in this country. Reasonable taxes make this good life possible. It's just that I'm not really patient enough -- nor skillful enough -- to do what my bright and able CPA does for me so faultlessly.
We're a good team. I have the same sort of relationship with my skilled financial adviser. Because I'm aware of my weaknesses in financial planning and accounting, I know I have to work harder. I know I have to help these two competent people help me.
I'm sorry I haven't posted for eight days. These have been my excuses.
Nothing sure but death and taxes.
It appears I've survived another year.
But those flu symptoms were a near thing!
It appears I've survived another year.
But those flu symptoms were a near thing!
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