My wife had a cold that lingered for more than a week and I thought I had escaped getting it. Then my son gave me an LA Lakers tie on Father's Day and I have been deathly ill ever since. An omen that turned out to be a curse, besides causing deep emotional scars conjuring up images of dreaded Laker players every time I see the tie. I have hidden it but it's like the old Shakespearean dilemma of "out, damned spot."
The following commentary has not been approved by the American Medical Association. I happen to be a doctor of philosophy, but apparently I know nothing about either economics or medicine. The problem with a cold is that it doesn't seem too bad for a couple of days, then, inexorably, incrementally, and exponentially, the hateful malady takes over your body and your system. Here are some of the blessings (none) and curses (many) of the common cold:
- You never know when a cold will turn into bronchitis, pneumonia, lung congestion, hearing loss, speech loss, strepthroat, whooping cough, or many other maladies, some of them fatal.
- A cold makes me so unspeakably miserable that I find it necessary to update my spouse about every 15 minutes or so on just how miserable I feel, even though she's not much better.
- After coughing and sneezing non-stop and going through 5 boxes of Kleenex, then you start wheezing after every breath, sounding like you have a built in tracheotomy.
- Since my nose is all stuffed up, I have probably suffered oxygen deprivation.
- Even after the main symptoms of the cold have disappeared, the hangover effect lasts another three weeks during which time you feel even more miserable, dejected, discouraged, and angry at the moron whose germs ultimately led to your suffering, whoever that was and wherever you picked it up.
- I miss my Mother, but I do not miss the fate worse than death of having a mustard plaster slung onto my chest like a mass of wet concrete, burning the hide off my body and frightening the living heck out of whatever ails me.
But folks, this is July. Terrible colds don't happen on July 4. What kind of insanity is this? I don't think I'm ever going to get any better. Woe, woe, woe is me (from the Book of Lamentations.)