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This is your brain on a cold…

This is your brain on the worst cold you’ve had since 1987, including gut-wrenching lung hacking…

This is your brain on the worst cold you’ve had since 1987, including gut-wrenching lung hacking, which has you thinking it must be the swine flu, because only the swine flu could have you feeling so bad…

This is your brain on the worst cold you’ve had since 1987, including gut-wrenching lung-hacking, which probably isn’t the swine flu, but still has you terrified because you’ve got an 88-year-old father living under your roof who hasn’t had a pneumonia shot, ever, in his life…

This is your brain on the worst cold you’ve had since 1987, including gut-wrenching lung-hacking, which probably isn’t the swine flu, but still has you terrified because you’ve got an 88-year-old father living under your roof who hasn’t had a pneumonia shot, ever, in his life – and then he falls getting out of bed at 8:30 a.m., while attempting to a) clear his oxygen cord out from under his bedroom door using his cane as an oxygen-cord sweeper, and b)carry his two urinals – complete with the previous night’s full quota – to the bathroom.

This is your brain on the worst cold you’ve had since 1987, including gut-wrenching lung-hacking, which probably isn’t the swine flu, as you a) mop up last night’s quota, while b) telling the nice EMTs that, really, he’ll be o.k., if you can just get him back to bed.

This is your brain on the worst cold you’ve had since 1987, including gut-wrenching lung-hacking, which really isn’t the swine flu, as your 88-year-old father begins showing signs of gut-wrenching lung hacks, like you had 2 days ago, and he’s never had a pneumonia shot, ever, in his life, and you’re ordering him out of bed at 12:15 p.m. so you can get him his meds and some breakfast/lunch before you take in your 1 p.m. conference call, and then get him over to the medical lab for chest x-rays to see if that no-pneumonia-shot-ever decision was, perhaps, a mistake.

This is your brain forgetting the worst cold you ever had since 1987, including gut-wrenching lung hacking, and the father who may have pneumonia but never has had a pneumonia shot, ever, in his life, as you begin searching out airfares and descriptions of lovely Bloomsbury hotels, 2 blocks from the British museum, thinking, “I bet London is beautiful in September,” while managing to keep out of your brain what, exactly, might happen in the next eight months that could make it possible for you to get away from the house that is, for the time being, home to said 88-year-old.

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