A Hypochondriac's View of SARS

I've got a stuffy head, sore throat and chest congestion. My wife says I have a cold. I think I have SARS.

She says most SARS cases originate in the Far East, and the farthest east I've ever been is Long Island Sound.

I point out that we had Chinese food recently. She says you can't get SARS from Chinese food.

Then what about Toronto, I say; a lot of SARS cases in Toronto, too.

You haven't been to Canada, either, she points out.

Ah, but I've been watching a lot of hockey on television, I counter.

She shakes her head.

You never think I'm sick, I say.

On the contrary, she says, I think you're very, very sick.

OK, remember last fall, when I had that Eastern equine thing?

Sure, you developed a craving for sugar cubes.

So what about that?

You didn't have West Nile Virus.

But wasn't I bitten by a mosquito? And didn't I have fever and chills?

That's Malaria.

I had Malaria!? Why didn't you tell me?

You didn't have Malaria. You didn't have anything.

Then how do you explain my other symptoms?

She rolls her eyes. What other symptoms?

You know . . . the shortness of breath.

You're out of shape.

The heart palpitations?

The new Victoria's Secret catalog.

The chronic fatigue.

You mean the naps.

How about the confusion? The inability to perform simple tasks?

You're a moron.

You have absolutely no compassion, I say.

You're a hypochondriac, she fires back.

How can you say that, with my medical history?

Let's take a look at your medical history.

Fine, let's.

OK, did you or did you not once buy yourself a home pregnancy test kit?

I did, but that was a long shot. I was trying to figure out my sudden weight gain.

Whatever. Are we finished here? I need you to do me a favor.

What?

Pick me up a box of surgical masks.

Why?

I don't want to give this SARS thing to anyone else.