It’s a little early for this, but my body was projecting crisp autumn days with the cooler weather lately and it thought hey, you know what happens every fall? You get sick! Let’s do that, too. It’ll be fun. Not so much.
I contracted a mystery ghost cough on Saturday night–only a few occurrences out of nowhere and gone before further analysis could be rendered. Sunday, I acquired an itchy throat. I preemptively struck with salt water gargling until I couldn’t stand it anymore, then I drank some tea and willed myself towards health. Om.
Nope. And low vision doesn’t obscure the effects of a cold. Woke up Monday with a gravely, dry throat, sounding like a Parisian woman in her seventies. More gargling and a long shower. I felt fine otherwise. Idleness fosters deviousness, so I went to work. I Cloroxed the surfaces I touched and sequestered myself at lunch to minimize coworker interaction, vigilant because I’m haunted by guilt when I pass on a sickness. This is fueled by the memory of the Stomach Bug from Hell circa Christmas 2008 that I transported from the produce department at work to self to Stockton. It adds ten years to your life if it doesn’t kill you in two days, that’s my theory.
Anyway, at home my cough ghost returned to nest and I purged something from my lungs. Obviously, I called out Tuesday. I brewed lemon tea. I gargled. I took cleansing breathes, zen mastery. I blew my nose often, hoping my skin wouldn’t form that triangle of rawness from too many tissue contacts. Stockton ferried some Italian wedding soup home from the local market and tucked me under a blanket on the couch, a podcast queued up. Love him.
I tried to trick my throat into thinking it didn’t hurt, the nerve ending were just nostalgic for Pop Rocks. Alas, still sick. Rest, hydrate, walk around, gargle with salt water, drink lemon tea. Repeat. Repeat until healthy again. I’m getting there.
Are you seasonal allergies kicking in yet? Have you caught an end of summer cold? Commiserate with me.