I have been sick for approximately six hundred years, or so it seems. Spring as it comes and goes is, for me, the season of rejuvenation, renewal and relentless allergies. As the frost thaws and the flowers bloom, so too does the human spirit and a healthy dose of hay fever. It’s as if every flower conspires to launch a coordinated assault on my respiratory system.
One cannot help but marvel at the sheer audacity of a season that tantalizes us with its beauty while simultaneously bombarding our sinuses with microscopic tormentors. Et tu, March?
Due to the timing of “fake spring” here in the cold weather regions, I initially blamed allergies for my sniffling, sneezing, coughing, aching and stuffy head. I woke up one day with a slight tickle in my throat and didn’t give it much thought. That is until it morphed within a day into a symphony of sniffles and sneezes, full body aches and a relentless fatigue all experienced among the mass of tissue piles and thermometer readings. These weren’t allergies. I was SICK. I was also deeply annoyed because I took my vitamins. I drink water. I wash my hands. WHO DID THIS TO ME? I WANT NAMES!
Pity
Being sick is like starring in your very own tragicomic production, complete with unexpected plot twists and dramatic flourishes. Not one to miss a chance for martyred pity, I mastered the art of the dramatic cough. I throw my arm across my face and cough into the crook of my elbow, as kindergartners are taught. You spread less germs this way. It’s also a great way to look like you might faint. It has flair.
It is absurd to try and maintain your dignity while sneezing. I don’t even try. It’s a delicate dance of trying to stifle the explosive force of a sneeze. I am not certain but it seems likely you could blow a blood vessel.
I had no spark for WEEKS. This thing that is going around is known for that little trick. I went through each day with my body protesting its newfound role as a germ battleground. There is a certain absurdity of trying to carry on with daily tasks while feeling as though a herd of elephants has taken up residence in your lungs. If timed correctly, carrying on for weeks if not months with a symphony of wheezes and hacks can make Mr. Wonderful believe that I don’t have the strength to carry laundry — or a dinner plate. I certainly don’t have the energy required to properly operate the stove.
Then came the joy of navigating the minefield of over-the-counter medications, each promising relief but often delivering side effects worthy of their own class action suit. I had to question if the cure was worse than the cold. Just when I was feeling my most worn out, there was a pop quiz at the medicine cabinet. Is it one pill every four hours or two pills every 8? Not to exceed how many in a 24 hour period lest I trade cold symptoms for kidney failure? What exactly is the difference between a decongestant and an expectorant anyway? When did buying cough medicine start requiring two forms of identification and a background check at the pharmacy counter? I may just return to the old ways. When life hands me lemons in the form of this everlasting cough and cold, I’m just going to make hot tea.
Spend
That’s not to say there isn’t some humor in the whole situation. As the body temperature rises, so too does my propensity for nonsensical ramblings and questionable decision-making. It’s a bit like starring in my own reality show, where the rules of logic and reason have been temporarily suspended in favor of fever-induced shenanigans. I’m not entirely certain I didn’t place some online orders under the influence of either a fever or the aforementioned over-the-counter cough and cold medicine. I’m sure I’m going to love … whatever it is that I bought if and when it ever arrives. I know for a fact I bought two decorative ceiling medallions and at least one pair of shoes. I am pleading the fifth — dose that is.
