Cold War

Is there anything more likely to incur the description ‘petulant’ about a middle-aged woman than a vicious head cold? I think not.

A week ago I awoke to a gruesome sore throat. The kind that makes you determined that swallowing is an unnecessary evil and that you WILL. NOT. DO. IT. AGAIN until the pain has passed. When you are forced by nature (damn those smooth muscles) to swallow you make faces such that you appear possessed. This segment of my ailment lasted for about a day when we moved into the more active phase of ‘there’s a hellacious lot of gunk in there and it’s gonna come out’. This includes the charming honking, snorting, and braying nose blowing which brings forth such copious amounts of snot it runs down your hand leaving people like me to wonder ‘why hasn’t someone figured out a way to power cars on mucous because I’m pretty sure I’ve manufactured enough that I’ll never need another petroleum product as long as I live.’ With innovative ideas like this it is beyond me why I’m not a cabinet member. Can you listening, Obama?

Anyway, it’s a week later and while the pain portion of our program has ended I’m still coughing, choking, and draining at an annoying level. Sleeping flat in bed is almost impossible because I’m certain I’m going to choke on my own mucous (is that possible?). In addition, due to the same vagaries that contribute to my multiple sclerosis I have an immune system that is better organized and more ready to fight than the Romans were under Caesar. In their efforts to stomp this enemy into submission my white blood cells are attacking other non-invasive cells in my body, like the soft tissues in my hands and wrists and the nerves in my shoulders and hips. All of which respond by spasms of pain; pain that can’t be treated by anything. Well, OK, Vicodin might help but those pantywaists at the AMA seem to think it’s addictive and ought not to be prescribed for anything other than surgery. Bastards.

My issues with the AMA aside there are all the attendant emotions that come with being sick. I don’t like feeling vulnerable or needy or drawing attention to myself. Stop laughing. There is a difference between the knowledge that it’s all about me and needing to grind it into people’s faces. Clarification: if I’m to be the center of attention it should be for something other than coughing up a lung. The days of a dainty singular cough into a tissue are long gone. I’m now one of those people I glare at in public when I’m fairly certain they’re spreading the plague. I try and kid myself that I’m being discreet but instead I sound like I’m grinding the ignition of a car that’s already been started.

So, despite having hit the midlife mark this summer I’m feeling like a badly behaved six year old and want nothing more than to stamp my foot and throw myself on the floor. Or as the Aussies call it "chuck a tanty" (God, I love Australians!). This being sick thing is just bullshit and needs to end NOW. Who do I talk to about this?

Do you get the yearly flu? Are you a graceful sick person or a petulant child like me?