If I hadn’t come down with the flu, I never would’ve found out I was the Antichrist.
But there I was—puking, sweating, and broke—waiting four hours at a free clinic sandwiched between a guy coughing up blood and a woman reading a conspiracy blog out loud. I was between radio gigs again, which meant no insurance, no backup plan, and no wifi.
Radio jobs had…
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Healthy Word Salad to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.