Well, I am now taking an antibiotic for my illness.

When I went to the physician yesterday, he correctly guessed my symptoms before I even opened my mouth, the phlegm, the sore throat, the red, watery eyes, the extreme tiredness, the chills, the bowel disturbances, etc. and told me I very likely caught this bacteria from one of my many students, most likely from one of the several who work and/or volunteer at the hospitals in our region.

When he examined my throat, he said it was noticably reddened, and then he looked into my ear canal and saw an even greater amount of redness and swelling. He took my blood pressure, which was at its usual average of 110/70. Looking into my nasal passages he noted that they were extremely swollen. I did not have a fever, but he said that was not unusual given the strain he felt I had invading my body. Then he felt the glands in my neck region, noting that they were warm and swollen.

Then as has been his practice for the last decade or so, he reached into my shirt pocket and extracted out my briar pipe. The one I had been using that day actually is the same one pictured on the blog. As befitting his role as care-giver, he as usual admonished me for my indulgence in the pipe..... "You know, you really ought to quit smoking." he would say, continuing "not only is it a dangerous activity for your health, but also stains the tips of your moustache and the beard around your mouth." Both my beard and moustache are grey (salt-and-pepper) and he is correct, the tips of the hairs of my moustache and the hairs of my beard around my mouth do have a slight reddish-brown tinge of color to them. Yet, is that such a horror? I do not think so.

As is befitting *my* role in this miniature melodrama, I nod my head and grin a sheepish sort of grin saying that his words and intentions are correct, but that his philosophical/metaphysical stance is immature. The doctor grins, for we have had this discussion several times in the past. He again, looks more closely at the pipe, and gazes into the bowl. Then he brings the bowl to his nose and smells the spent leaf that is still in the bowl.

The doctor then says, "You know, it has now been nearly 25 years since I put down my own pipes, and I still find that I miss them." A brief look of nostalgia floods across his eyes. He gently hands me back my pipe and I slide the bowl end into my shirt pocket.

I thank him and wish him a happy holiday season, and tell him my usual prattle about liking to talk with him, but hoping I do not see him for a long time. He grins, and says hopefully we will not meet again until in the spring, and this time it would be on the golf course. He is a very good golfer, whereas for me, golf is more of a social activity, and my scores are quite variable but usually poor. In the K of C league I play for, I often have the good doctor as my partner. He is a nice fellow, and I do enjoy his company... outside of his office.

Now, I will try to grade papers until my stamina is gone and then go home to sleep.