Way back in the 1970's I broke my right arm in a fight. I had been studying Tae Kwon Do and it was after hours and it was with a more advanced student I had no business sparring with and I broke my arm. I just went home and didn't tell anyone for days.
10 years later or so I was newly single and had just met this girl I was crazy about and I helped her paint her art gallery one evening. I had 104 fever that wouldn't go away but I didn't want to pass up the opportunity to spend time with her. I didn't go to the doctor for a long time.
Back in the late 90's I had kidney stones -- pain so bad I couldn't talk. I took it for a week before I went to the doctor but I refused the Vicodin because it's for weak people.
6 years ago I had a ruptured gall bladder. Hard to describe the pain, but I ignored it and the pain and fever went away after a week. A couple of years later I almost died from liver complications from it.
Pneumonia? What are you, a candy ass? Nobody lets something like that stop them.
So you're president and it's 3 AM and the phone rings. It's NORAD, something about missiles, but you've got this nasty head cold and you just don't want to get out of bed. . .
Morning report: My case of sympathy pneumonia is resolving as expected, but it might return with a vengeance depending upon how pissed off I feel. I'd like to think myself as the Typhoid Rage Roid for spreading contagion.
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