Sick

http://books.hamlethub.com/booksink/local-writers/42969-my-life-on-the-post-road-out-out-damn-d-cold

And I don’t mean the temperature. Al Roker tells me that by the time you read this it will be 55 degrees outside. I’ve heard him report that approximately 17 times since I planted myself on the couch surrounded by pillows, blankets, tissues, tea, lip balm, and Ricola. I added reading materials and knitting to the piles close by, but have the energy for neither. I’ve emailed to find a sub to teach my evening yoga class.

I have a cold. The second one since Christmas. My eldest brought me the first when he came home for the holidays; this one – in the interest of absolute equity amongst siblings – is courtesy of my youngest. It seems as if everyone I know is ailing or recovering from URIs or the flu. Tis the season.

Lest I sound like a whiny baby, I am fully cognizant that this is an extremely minor first world problem. I appreciate my overall good health and hard-working immune system immensely. But there is something just annoying about this common yet unconquerable cold virus. For me, there’s the added delight that since age 16 a cold automatically and without fail triggers my Achilles’ heel and favorite ailment, bronchitis. That takes me down very quickly, making breathing and moving all but impossible. I then require heavy pharmaceutical artillery, which, as a rule, I’d rather stay away from.

I throw every homeopathic and natural remedy at the first sign of the telltale throat tickle: garlic tea with lemon, cayenne, raw honey, and apple cider vinegar (I’m not kissing anyone anyway), EmergenC, elderberry, zinc, oregano oil, bee pollen, saline nasal spray, propolis, probiotics, Vitamin D… you name it, I’m ingesting it. And the cold does often wither in the face of this daunting onslaught. Yet despite the Dulera, the bronchitis inevitably rears its ugly head.

So here I sit, in the third hour of the Today Show, awaiting a call back from my doctor while I nod off and remind myself how much worse things could be despite how crappy I feel.  So this is my Get Well card to everyone who, like I, wishes their mommy would bring them some chicken soup and TLC: Feel Better Soon.

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