Another of life's setbacks, this time a Strep Throat. So they're sending in the young sacrificial lambs to deal with my basic needs, Candy Streppers, Strep Minors, Strep-Teases or whatever they call the cute teenage nurse's aids these days, so that the A-Team doesn't risk infection more than they need to.

After it being scratchy for a week, they found amounts of positive "Culture" in my throat, so I may have to switch to singing opera or vocal folkal "Settings' that they'd give to people like Kathleen Farrier (sp?) when they thought they'd found a few trad songs that were too good for the proletariat. But it seems that after administering some old-fashioned codene-laced tussin syrup like they used to sell publicly in the old days, my real voice is coming back, for bitter or worse. After a night of tussin without turnin' on this stuff, I managed to sleep through the alarm as well as my pain management nurse appointment, which I must not have really needed at the moment anyway. Meanwhile, I'm walking the walk and croaking the croak. I've waited longer for this bit of hoarseness to come around than the one I bet on in the Kentucky Derby. I wish that nag had been sctatched instead of my nagging throat condition. I don't know which will end up costing me more money. Meanwhile, I try to relive the days of my phlegming youth, trying to be able to clear small throats in a single bound......