The Gland...It is Watching You

I have a gland of death.

Before anyone thinks that would make an excellent concept for a horror/porn movie, the gland in question is in my neck and it hurts!

I've had this pesky pestilence since before Thanksgiving and it keeps mutating and infecting other parts of my respiratory system. Last night my breathing sounded exactly like Darth Vadar! And smelled just as evil. The cats dove for cover under the bed and the neighbourhood quaked in fear, but I was high on Robitussin so I merely waved an indifferent hand and went to sleep.

I have had sore throat, scratchy throat, red throat, dry throat, phlegmy chest, coughy chest, bronchitis nastiness and now the wheezy breath and the gland of death.

OH...

That should so be a band. Coming to a Heavy Metal Hair-fest near you: Wheezy Breath and the Gland of Death. It should feature a tiny geriatric rocker like Brett Michaels and his walking frame and there should be oxygen tank refills between songs.

Everyone is sick. The world is ending.