I'm a very lucky person. I haven't had a cold for two or three years. (I've never had the flu -- therefore don't get flu shots). I realize how very, very lucky that is. But a cold hit me last week. Most people don't have to be reminded of the progression of a typical cold. Nor do I.
This one surprised me. Suddenly I was sneezing, within a short time my nose was dripping, my sinuses were suddenly very obviously there aching and bloating like a personal size tsunami. Several hours of that and then the cough. I sounded like an ailing camel. (I've never actually been around an ailing camel but I've been near groaning and complaining camels and can imagine that if those sounds were multiplied into serious discomfort and not just the habitual annoyance that is pat of the beast's DNA, that's what I my coughs sounded like.) In short, I felt lousy.
So I skipped a lecture I had hoped to hear and came home, had some tea and some soup and a hot steamy bath. I swallowed a horrible supposedly cherry flavored decongestant, took a Tylenol PM and went to bed and slept for eleven hours. I haven't slept that long in so long I can't even imagine what event could have sent me to bed for such a sleep. I woke up "cured". So I thought and felt. Nose and sinuses entirely clear. Cough mostly gone. A miracle cure! Obviously I needed that rest.
Not truly a miracle because the cough hid out somewhere in my chest and barked like a large dog outside the door wanting in, but it was not persistent. Of course, it tended to come at inconvenient times but it didn't last long -- a few sips of water and a cough drop or piece of hard candy fixed it for several hours. My nose didn't entirely give up dripping, but, it too, is only occasionally in need of a Kleenex. And the sneezing has stopped. I'm not a 100% cured, but it's merely an impolite occasional reminder that, hey -- I'm not all that special. The cold germs can still attack. Yes, they can, and, yes, I respect them and henceforth will remember that a really good night's sleep is a curative thing.
The mid-70s are a surprise! Part of me remains in the 50s -- age, I mean, not decade of 20th century. It's a joy ride, new experiences land in my lap and I've become a better quilter, poet, writer than I expected. It's a rich life for a person never rich financially. Hey, this is what the mid-70s are like!