The ongoing battle between Calgon and Chuck E.

I have the feeling that I may have to escape the office during lunch.

I have been fighting a sore throat and general malaise since yesterday. This morning, I woke up with a cough that leaves my throat feeling raw, along with the unmovable urge to stay in bed. I went to work anyway, where I was greeted with at least six e-mails all asking for the impossible, along with the distinct stench of coffee burnt to tar at the bottom of a coffee pot.

After tending to the coffee pot (by turning off the burner) and the e-mails (half I replied to, the other half I flipped the bird at), I made every attempt to let my dear co-workers know that I would rather not try to speak today, despite the fact that I sound just like Selma Diamond. Most were sympathetic; the small gaggle of idiots that constantly raise my ire proceeded to ignore my ill health and send calls and patients back to my office, left and right.

Excuse me? Let's send oncology and hematology patients, who are more than likely either already sick or highly susceptible to illness, to the sick-ass person suffering in the small, enclosed office in the back!

More patients coming in right now. Goodness. On goes my SARS mask.