This is What It’s Like to be One of Dr. Moreau’s Beasts

In case it wasn’t clear in my last post, I was recently horrifically ill –not “horrifically” in the sense that I almost died or anything but in the sense that my orifices were treated to cascades of appalling fluids escaping my body. During this time as a sprinkler of human waste and sick, I realized that other people were reacting to me the way I felt: like an abomination to humanity. Once I realized how I felt about myself, it helped me understand why people were treating me like a beloved pet that’s bleeding out of its eyelids. “Oh no, poor Scruffy, I want to help, but I’m not sure if I should touch you. Do you want to go out into the field…you know, for a walk? Let Mommy just grab something out of this case that is definitely not a method of ending your misery in a way that I’ll justify by calling it merciful release.”

I'm not a monster!
I’m not a monster!

Mostly, general humanity views the ill like one of the human/animal hybrids from The Island of Doctor Moreau, they’re horrified and even if it looks like it may have been your former husband, Barry, he now has the face of a wild boar and you’re not sure if you get too close if he’ll bite you. I guess a zombie metaphor works too, but regardless, the closest anyone wants to get is the safe enough distance to call out, “is there anything I can do for you, like maybe throw you a can of soup, an opener and a pack of matches before I board up the door?”

We should develop drones that come equipped with hologram projection technology or that can just carry tablets with Skype so we don’t have to be in the same stinky germ pit as the sick person. Then you can fly the drone out, pack a missile with whatever the sick person needs and drone it right into their sweaty, sick face. When I’m trying to concoct cockamamy plans like that to avoid the sick, it makes me have a whole lot of respect for nurses. Nurses see a sick person and just like nuzzle up and wipe a sweaty butt. No hesitation just, “gimme that sicky bum!”

I agree with the sentiment, but did the graphic designer not realize the logo looks like a butt plug?
I agree with the sentiment, but did the graphic designer not realize the logo looks like a butt plug?

Speaking of bums, I am recovering well from my latest fight with my stomach. Sure, I feel like I spent three days having my prostate checked every two hours by Shaquille O’Neal using his full fist, but I still feel superior to what I felt during that experience. But now comes the part where I have to convince people that I am not a monster.

Not sure if any of you have been through a stomach flu-esque situation, but there comes the time when you think your stomach is ready to reintroduce more than just a cracker. It’s a glorious day…almost as glorious as the one where, after a rough weekend, you look in the toilet on Monday night and say, “hey, that’s promising!”

Not a political statement. just a visual representation of the voracious.
Not a political statement. just a visual representation of the voracious.

Once the appetite returns, even just a little, the debilitated will devour anything the fickle tummy dare accept. For me it was rice and saltines. When I was actually eager to eat a microwave cup of rice using a saltine spoon, I was confronted with, “looks like your appetite has returned.” While I logically know that’s an encouraging statement, my insecurity also can’t help but think that statement sounds like what someone says to a horse strapped to a feed bag.

Eventually, once I gain some distance on this sickness, I can slowly prove that I am not a monster and my tusks will slowly retract, allowing humanity to return to me and me to humanity.


Add yours →

  1. You and Shaq are now my favourite OTP.


  2. Now you’re just like everyone else, tuskless and fancy free.

    I might not vote for you after all.


  3. I have the bad habit of putting on a brave face when I’m sick so people won’t think I’m a crybaby wuss. Then they go about their business & I’m then free to be a crybaby wuss… who is now left all alone to fend for himself.

    It’s not a very well thought-out plan.

    Getting better is awesome, though! A long time ago, I noticed, when I’m sick, is I would try to remember what it feels like to not have aches/pains/fever/other sicky-type feelings & I just can’t (even though I wasn’t sick just the day before). In my head it’s like being sick totally erases the memory of being not sick. I just know there’s something out there that just feels not as crappy as I’d be feeling at the point of being sick… Like a dream that’s just on the borderline of my memory but I just can’t remember anything beyond the fact that I had a dream.


  4. My hubby is headed to the doctor today for a chest congestion and cough that just doesn’t go away. I’m sure it’s time for an anti-something to break up the congestion. Hard to sleep when you keep coughing enough to pee your pants.


  5. What’s a butt plug? What does one do with a butt plug?

    I just want to read your answer.



    • Well, Janie, the balloon knot often referred to as the “anus” is a source of great evil. It’s like a Pandora’s Box of impurity. Many think that demons possess their human hosts by sliding up the turd tunnel. The only way to stop these evils from getting in or out is to cork it! Hence, the butt plug, a perfectly designed human cork that fits snug up the turd cutter to quiet the barking spider.
      Or, to put it in children’s book terminology: Butt plugs plug butts, plug, Buttplug, plug!

      Liked by 1 person

  6. Glad your innards are settling down. The Who said it best in Tommy, “You know where to put the cork.”


  7. My wife needs adrone on a daily basis. I think she’s exaggerating. Sniff sniff…. yeah… definitely exaggerating. Now, as for those matches…

    A butt plug nurse. Maybe later.


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