FRUIT-IN-MOUTH DISEASE
In addition to overhearing the marvelous conversation about surrealism (detailed below), this wondrous thing also befell me today:
Note from my student: Kim, this sounds strange, but early Sunday morning my throat was almost completely swollen shut. It wasn't strep throat. Somehow my uvula was swollen to the size of a grape. I went to the hospital and was pumped full of anti-infammatories and other drugs. My throat is still extremely soar and I'm pretty nautious. The doctor recommended, not by me mind you, that I take two days off. I have her note with me and will give it to you on Wednesday. Sorry for the inconvenience."
Having a uvula the size of a grape is the best excuse I've ever heard for missing class, and, believe me, I've heard a few. My students, who are otherwise scarily conservative, are very liberal in their interpretation of my No-Absences-Unless-You-Have-A-Really-Good-Excuse policy. As you can imagine, their definition of "really good" differs a tad from mine. I have threatened a Stalinist type crackdown, but they just stare at me blankly and ask what I mean by "purge" and "gulag" — are those words going to be on the quiz?; additionally, my perverse desire to see how they will abuse me next has kept me from dropping the hammer — and sickle.
The uvula kid, I'm pretty sure, is telling the truth. In any event, his story is so good — imagine your uvula as a plump pinot noir full to bursting in your throat — that I'm not going to call his bluff and actually ask to see the doctor's note.
But for all those students who said they couldn't come to class this morning because last night's hail storm (at 10 p.m., mind you) knocked out their power, rendering their alarm clocks impotent, take heed: I shall begin my Friday lecture by pounding my shoe on the podium and shouting "We will bury you," until all the veins on my forehead bulge like grapes.
And if a single one of them gets the Nikita Khrushchev reference, I will be so overjoyed that all will be instantly forgiven.
posted by kc @ 3:42 PM
11 comments
11 Comments:
Can I come and conduct a show trial for you? I promise to persecute without mercy.
Considering this is an editing class, does the student lose points for the spelling of "soar" in describing his throat?
DW, you can indeed, my little Trotsky.
George, "soar" did no bother me as much as "nautious." Although, when I stop and think, I rather like "nautious" because it more readily suggests "nautical" and thus sea-sickness.
I also wonder whether this kid's doctor is my gynecologist. I'll be able to tell if he shows me the note and it says something like: "Kim! Please excuse M**. He has a uvula the size of a grape!!! No shit!" (That's how she talks. I love her.)
That kid's excuse, while funny, falls into the category of too much information. Did you really need to know about his uvula swelling and the doctor's advice? I think a simple "I'm sick and will not be in class while I'm recovering" would be sufficient.
*the "soar" and "nautious" were hilarious. This is an editing class?
I rue the day a proctologist tells me: "George: You have as a prostate the size of a grapefruit!!! No shit!"
Sorry if this is too much information, Sara, but, I am compelled to tell George this:
On my rare visit to the doctor's, the gyno in question couldn't find my cervix. (That is true. I'll tell you all about it in a more proper setting)
When she eventually found it, she said, "Kim! You have a cervix the size of a grape seed!!! No shit!" (That part is not true)
No, no, no. Not too much information among friends. I meant more of in a teacher-student setting.
Bring on the cervix stories!
Maybe it's just me, but if an
OB-GYN can't find a cervix, it may be time to find a new doctor.
Of course, if a doctor can't find my cervix, I'll be relieved.
Hush your mouth, Boy George! I will not have you slandering my doctor on my very own blog. She is damn delightful. I am practically in love with her.
One of the reasons she couldn't find my cervix was that she was using that ear-examiner thing-a-ma-jig for a light source, so of course it would be like finding a needle in a haystack. She's hardly to be faulted for that. Once she fetched a conventional light bulb it only took her about 20 minutes to locate the body part in queston.
I love your OB-GYN too. A doctor who does not think herself some kind of god among men is a rare breed.
Oooh ... cervix, womb ... these things make me kind of ... nautious.
My first trip to the gyno, my blood pressure dropped to something over 40. I cannot handle it.
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