kvetch (kvĕch) Slang, noun: 1) a rant or nagging complaint, 2) one who rants or complains incessantly; a chronic, whining complainer, verb: to rant, complain, or whine persistently
[Yiddish kvetshn, to squeeze, complain, from Middle High German quetzen, quetschen, to squeeze.]
Disclaimer: The following is rated EGO: ML and is not recommended for those who are Easily Grossed Out; contains Medical Language
I’ve enjoyed a fairly long stretch of relatively good health of late and what I’m about to recount certainly doesn’t seem all that serious in the greater scheme of things. Plus it all started right after we got home from a really enjoyable summer vacation, so from that perspective, the timing was good and I really shouldn’t complain. Having said all that, I’ve spent the last 18 days feeling downright shitty, which from my perspective gives me a temporary license to kvetch. This current affliction came on in the form of a sneak attack – no sniffles, sneezing, congestion or other warning signs one might expect – I just started coughing one evening and was instantly overcome with a full-fledged case of acute bronchitis. It’s really unlike anything I’ve experienced: deep, rumbling, extended coughing fits explode out of the blue – day or night – which are, let’s just say “productive.” I will try to avoid getting overly graphic but the key question the doctor asks at a time like this is “What color is it?” Green or yellow are signs of a secondary bacteriological infection that can trigger medical intervention in the form of antibiotics. Two weeks later I’ve finished my second course of bejeezus antibiotics and the punks camped out in my lungs just laughed and said, “Is that all you got?” Meanwhile to demonstrate just who’s in control, they continue to sporadically set off round after round of M-80s inside my chest just for sport. The doctor is now (by process of elimination) thinking the bastards are members of the infamous Viral Youth Gang who are outfitted with black leather antibiotic-proof flak jackets so all I can do is just wait until they get bored and go off to find another poor soul to torture (not that I’d wish this on anyone). To add insult to infirmity, it’s been like being in limbo – not well enough to carry on normal activities including working, swimming, or socializing – but for some times during the day (in between coughing fits) not feeling terribly sick. Three weeks of this crap is enough, don’t you think? I am going to the window right now, opening it up, sticking my head out and yelling: “I’m as mad as hell, and I’m not going to take this anymore!” Kvetch, kvetch, kvetch. There, after getting this off my chest so to speak I’m in a better mood already.