Profuse is one of those weird words that I hear now and again and I know the meaning of by context — “You have my profuse apologies” or “He spent a profuse amount of money on that house.” But I never looked it up. It, of course, means this (according to Google):
PROFUSE pro·fuse prəˈfyo͞os/ adjective
1. (especially of something offered or discharged) exuberantly plentiful; abundant. “I offered my profuse apologies” synonyms: copious, prolific, abundant, liberal, unstinting, fulsome, effusive, extravagant, lavish, gushing…
2. archaic (of a person) lavish; extravagant. “they are profuse in hospitality“
I bet it’s one of those words that gives English language learners fits. Or even people who have never heard the word and only know it through the dictionary or via the thesaurus. I know you can be in quite a lot of pain, but I wonder if one can be in profuse pain? Like I said, it’s a word I know the meaning of through context, but it’s not one I use often. I know that one cannot be extravagant pain. That would be interesting. “I have extravagant pain.” hahahaha. Or how about lavish pain? “I’m in pain, but it’s okay, it’s a lavish pain.” Googling profuse and pain together reveals that one cannot (in English) be in profuse pain. Profuse is applied to tangible nouns, so one can have profuse sweating, or profuse tears, or profuse swearing (words are tangible I suppose since they come out of your mouth) but not profuse pain. Pssst, I surmised that by the synonyms, but it was a fun exercise anyway.
Right now, my back and side are killing me — profusely, with no apology. Ha! IBS is flaring up again. Blah. Totally my fault of course because I simply have to go off of my bland diet every once in a while. A person cannot live on eggs and bread alone! Even if it keeps me pain free. So I splurge for a week on things I know I shouldn’t be eating because fuck it, I need flavor! and I pay for it for days. Then it’s back to the bland diet for a few months, and the cycle continues. And the bitch of it is, I’m still taking the stupid meds from back in October when I went to the emergency room — the acid inhibitors (Pepcid AC and Prilosec). If I didn’t take those, I’d be in a lot worse pain. When we get our insurance straightened out, I might see a doctor again, but I’m so tired of hearing, “We can’t find what’s wrong with you.”
Anyway, that has nothing to do with profuse, which is a strange word to try and write around. Honestly, other than sentences similar to the aforementioned sentences — profuse apologies or profuse amounts of money — I don’t think I’ve heard anyone use the word. When I googled profuse pain, I got all kinds of medical documents that referred to things like “excrement is less profuse” or “profuse sweating” so I suppose it’s used in the medical field. Not so much in the day to day though.
And now I have the hiccoughs. erg… Weird, when I was a kid, they were spelled hiccoughs. now they’re spelled hiccups. I totally googled hiccoughs and it changed it to hiccups. Just like doughnuts used to be, well, doughnuts. Now they’re donuts. Though I’ve seen both spellings these days with doughnuts. But for the most part, it’s donuts nowadays. I love how language changes. I really do. Though I’ll probably still spell them hiccoughs and doughnuts because that’s what I’m used to. Don’t worry, I have a cure for my hiccoughs that always works for me. I just need to get up to use it. Drink a glass of water while holding my nose closed. Works every time for me. Doesn’t work for Doug at all, so there’s that. The human body is weird. So thus ends my sojourn into profuse. It wasn’t exciting, but I hope it was at least interesting.