I had to clear the cobwebs out of my head to write today’s column. I just recovered from an awful cold. You may remember the 1945 movie, “The Lost Weekend,” with Ray Milland and Jane Wyman. I spent an entire day on the couch, kind of in that “The Lost Weekend” state.
The cold began a few weeks before, with a dry cough which I attributed to the dust in the heat, and God knows the heat’s been cranking on a lot more often over the past few months. I would start coughing unstoppably, and say, “Excuse me! I’m not sick; really, it’s just this dry cough, probably from the heat.”
Paul and I both got the flu shot last fall, so I wasn’t getting sick! Then an earache began, which I attributed to the hardness of new pillows I bought or maybe I got some water lodged in my ear while taking a shower. “Whatever,” I thought, and kept going on that note, working out in the field all that week. I even visited three accounts on the ridiculous snow day that most folks took off a few weeks ago. OK, so the parking lots were like walking through the inside of a snow cone machine, but still, we’re used to that slushiness in the wintertime!
Finally one day I just collapsed, OK already! Flu shot or not, I guess I’m sick with a good old-fashioned cold. The couch became my sickbed and Comtrex PM every four hours became my drug of choice. I figured since I was down for the count, I may as well be zonked out all day. I tried to read, but had a colossal headache, so the TV was the alternative.
I DVR’d “The Bucket List” last November, with Jack Nicolson and Morgan Freeman, and finally decided to watch it. Not a very uplifting movie to watch when you’re sick, that’s for sure; but it was very good until I got to the part where that pesky guy offered the Hoverround Wheelchair absolutely free, and Jennifer Aniston began talking about adopting a child. How did all that stuff get in the movie, anyway?
Chessie, our cat, wasn’t sure what to make of my slugfest that day. I didn’t follow the usual morning routine. No shining the laser for kitty to chase, no exercises for kitty to peer down at the TV screen from the top of the entertainment center, while the fitness CD I’ve been following plays. I just lay on the couch and stayed there until the next morning; except the times she would plop on my chest to wake me up.
Chess managed to get more than three servings of fancy feast and asparagus out of me somehow that day. I, too, discovered the joy of “feeding a cold and starving a fever.” Between the potato soup that I’d made, leftover pizza, cinnamon jelly hearts, and my chugging orange juice frat party style, we both managed to get plenty to eat and plenty of sleep that day.
The next day I felt surprising well. It was Saturday, so I decided to clean up the sickbed and abolish as many germs as I could. I cleaned the telephone receivers and buttons, TV remotes, computer mouse and keyboard, doorknobs, light switches, toilet and sink levers and sprayed Lysol everywhere! It may have been premature, as I’m on the keyboard writing this column between dry coughs and tissue dabs.
I don’t know if all this antibacterial cleaning will really stop a cold from getting back into the house anytime soon, but I know there will be no seasonal flu or H1N1 — after all we had the shots!
Deb Drinkwalter is a Lockport resident. Her column appears every Sunday. Contact her at d.drinkwalter@yahoo.com.
Deb Drinkwalter
DRINKWALTER: I had the flu shot, so why am I sick?
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