I’m wearing a cold. I refuse “have it” as it would be accepting it as being part of me so I’m wearing it. Or it has somehow just attached itself to me. It’s following me around like a little dog suffering from separation anxiety.
Wearing the cold has made me spend time worrying about getting laryngitis because even though I‘m just wearing the cold it has that kind of power over me. It makes me do things I wouldn’t normally do. I used to get laryngitis every year and it always shut me up for a good three days at least. I tried to look at it like a vacation from talking but it was really more like a form of torture.
Wearing a cold sucks. You’re not sick enough to bunker down in bed and just sleep, or to sit through a Sex in City marathon while camping out on your couch.
You’re sick enough however to feel out of sorts, be listless and begin to suspect that you’re wearing a polystyrene box over your head. Your hearing is impaired and your eyes feel like they’re a size too big for the sockets they so happily inhabited just days before. Your nose produces so much snot that you have no doubt that when they say there’s a water shortage they’re telling the truth. You know because it’s all in your nose and your discarded tissues. Suddenly your life is all about having the next hanky or tissue ready.
You spray god knows what chemicals up your nose in an attempt to stem the flow and keep your airways free. You’re snorting that stuff like you would meth if you were an addict (which I sincerely hope you’re not because meth’s nasty shit). You curse the bastards who make meth because they’re the ones who made Sudafed hard to get and requiring you to show ID when you buy it. You never carry your ID around with you because you only have a cold once a year.
There’s not enough tea or water in the world to keep you from feeling like you’ve been crawling through a desert for days. You could try juice but it just gets weird because your tastebuds are on strike. Eating becomes about texture not taste.
You become an outcast. You’re not sick enough to stay home so you front up to the office with your cold in tow. You look like Rudolf the Red nosed Reindeer because of all the times you’ve blown your nose and it doesn’t matter how much you keep telling people it’s cute because it’s seasonal, they still shun you like you had a rare form of ultra-contagious leprosy.
You can’t wait for it to end but you know what’s coming next: your kid will get it too and kids are a little like men when it comes to being sick. When they get sick it’s sooooo much worse than when you do and so the games begin again.
I suppose it could be worse. I suppose it could have been leprosy.
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