This morning I woke myself up coughing. All last week I’d been fighting a cold, doing my best with decongestants, painkillers, saline spray and salt water gargles, and vitamin C. It was an uphill battle, but I was determined not to give in and run crying for the antibiotics like some sort of wussy baby who didn’t know that most colds are viral, taking antibiotics unnecessarily contributes to the truly freaky problem of antibiotic resistance, etc. And little by little, it seemed to be working. On Thursday evening I even thought I might be winning.
But then Friday came, and things got worse. The fever wouldn’t go away, and there was a cough starting up. Plus, I was working with Maaji, our intensely motherly employee health nurse, who really notices things about others. She immediately saw that I was not well, and started keeping a close watch on my symptoms. She let me know exactly how red my face got when the fever spiked, and made me stop taking my cold medicine so that she could get a proper read on my temperature. I kinda love her, so I did it, even though I knew what it would do to my productivity. Sure enough, I had a fever. Maaji made me swear to make an appointment to see my doctor, and since at that point, with all my medication worn off, I was feeling how miserable I really was, I agreed.
Long story short (yes, I know, too late), the good doctor gave me prescriptions for antibiotics and codeine cough syrup to help me sleep at night (the cough got bad), and now I’m working at struggling back towards health. I can feel the medication working, but I’m still pretty sick, and I have no stamina whatsoever. For example, I went to the CL Epiphany party last night, and left before we even broke the pinata. The pinata that I myself brought. And that’s sick.
I did stay long enough to participate in the White Elephant Gift Exchange, and came home with the creepiest rubber inflatable pony toy ever. Friends, this thing is so creepy that putting a thick black fake mustache on it made it less creepy. It was a pretty awesome White Elephant Gift, even if I keep catching it staring at me from across the room while I type.
In some ways I don’t mind being sick. Yesterday was the fourth anniversary of Jacob’s death. It’s convenient to have a nice cold to blame feeling miserable on. Then you don’t have to explain things. Explaining takes too much time and energy. I’d rather just have an epic cold.