Grace can be a bit of a hypochondriac.
Don’t get me wrong, she’s not one of those folks who spend their evenings trolling webMD to prove that they’re dying of some obscure Venezuelan blood disease.
She’s more of the casual hypochondriac. If someone she knows has a bug that’s even remotely catchable, she assumes she’s got it.
Then there’s me. I never get sick. Like never, ever. I’ll get the occasional runny nose or head cold, but I never get really sick. Sure, sure my lung will occasionally collapse, but I don’t get sick.
As such, every time Grace comes around asking me to check if she feels warm or if her cough sounds like whooping cough, I generally tell her that she’s being paranoid and she’s plenty healthy.
She’ll usually agree and then ask me six or seven more times before ultimately consulting with other parties and—on occasion—a medical practitioner.
Well since yesterday, she’s felt a little “off” and assumes she’s coming down with something. We’ve gone through the usual “feel my head” routine and I think she’s fine and should just get plenty of sleep.
She, of course, is pretty sure she’s got the Swine Flu.
She went so far as to tell me that she had a dry cough…a week ago…and thinks that was a symptom of the Swine Flu.
As one might expect, I blew off this assertion as ridiculous to which she gave me another quotealicious nugget of her awesomeness and today’s moment with Grace:
“You’ll regret this in 3-5 days when the rapid onset of symptoms causes me to decease!!”
…yes Grace, yes I will.
With moments like this, I think we’ll all regret my callous dismissal of your week-old “dry cough” and non-existent fever.
She’s one of a kind, ladies and gents, one of a kind.
PS: If by some fluke chance Grace does come down with Swine Flu, this blog can serve as a testament to my douchebaggery and fodder for hundreds of thousands of future “I Told You So” moments.