One of the more miserable times in life is when you discover that you’re contagious (and I’m not talking about having a sparkling personality.)
It could be a runny nose, a stomach virus, a cold sore or any one of a number of little irritations that come onto the human pathway and make us temporarily unacceptable for communion with our brothers and sisters.
Only once in my life was I dubbed “septic.” I had picked up a couple of bacteria microbes which had spread through my bloodstream, and then, upon being hospitalized, the environment of the healing institution afforded me a couple more.
Yes, I went to the hospital to multiply my contagion.
It was very annoying.
The nurses who took care of me had to take the precaution of wearing masks and rubber gloves all the time, and I felt like Typhoid Johnny. They checked my blood daily to see if I was decreasing in toxicity, and if it would be possible for me to once again someday walk among the living.
And what made it worse was that I did not feel bad–I was basically without symptoms, but still viral. And I do not mean like a video.
I cannot tell you how overjoyed I was when the last blood test declared me aseptic. There were still nurses who didn’t believe the test, and appeared donning their garb, obviously trying out costumes for Halloween.
But I had the confidence that I was no longer a threat to others.
Now I am not going to go philosophical here and discuss how septic attitudes–disgusting prejudices–can be passed along to other people. Far be it for me to turn every conversation into some sort of human parable.
But let me say that having been septic … I can recommend aseptic.
Thank you for enjoying Words from Dic(tionary) — J.R. Practix