Sick in the Head
Dec. 30th, 2008 03:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
penfield"Razors pain you
Rivers are damp
Acid stains you
Drugs cause cramp
Guns aren't lawful
Nooses give
Gas smells awful
You might as well live."
- Dorothy Parker
The signs are all here: Mild sinus congestion and inflammation. Scratchy, tender throat. Vague, indeterminate soreness. Sudden dental sensitivity. Persistent sense of foreboding. I'm getting a head cold.
Not ideal timing, considering that tomorrow night is New Year's Eve, one of few established, national occasions in which conspicuous consumption and reckless abandon are not only expected but encouraged. But I am concerned that by the time the clock strikes midnight, I will be slathered with Vicks Vapo-Rub and wheezing into my pillow.
It could be worse, I suppose. I could have come down with this cold before my Vegas Vacation[1] and spent my Quality Family Time inadvertently flinging mucus at my immediate family. In fact, the unseasonably cold weather in the American southwest may be partially to blame for my ague, as more than once I impulsively braved nearly-freezing temperatures in mere shirtsleeves. Repeated contact with filthy gaming machines, undersanitized hotel linens and germ-encrusted airline equipment could not have helped, either.
I have been coming down with colds since before I was old enough to wipe my own nose and still I'm not sure how to proceed, particularly at this particular stage of illness. Should I rage against the infection, trying to slow its determined advance and perhaps break its will? Or should I embrace the sickness, wallow in it for a while, and let my immune system quickly and quietly do its work?
"Rest" is often prescribed as a sure-fire cure for what ails me, but I'm not sure if this means "sleep" or just a lack of exertion. Sleep doesn't really make any sense, because if I sleep when I'm usually awake, it generally means that I'll be awake when I'm usually asleep. And if I'm going to be awake and bored and fussy, I'd rather do so in the company of other awake people. It would be pretty frustrating for me to lie awake thinking about my deviated septum with J. laying next to me, dreaming about cheesecake.
Rest as in non-exertion sounds fine, especially if it means I can stay home from work.[2] But what does that really entail that's different from my usual non-work hours? More television and whining? Does it get me out of minor household chores? What's the policy on really deep, analytical thinking?
Often I will feel better after going to the gym. I'm not sure if that's because it splits my focus or improves my circulation or pumps up my endorphins or what. But it usually helps. Then again, I'm not sure that the best thing for me to do while sick is break out into a profuse sweat.
I will have to be particularly vigilant with regard to a love quarantine; it would be very bad for me to get J. sick at this time, as she is trying to wrap up one job this week and starting a new job next week. It has long been my philosophy that if someone can love you when you are sick -- and infectious and sloppy and ugly and irritable -- then that person really loves you. But in this case, love comes with a hazmat suit.
The only halfway good thing about a head cold is that it usually eventually becomes a chest cold, making it that much easier to do my Kathleen Turner impression. :et us hope it goes no farther south, though, lest I be forced to do my diptheria impression.
Rivers are damp
Acid stains you
Drugs cause cramp
Guns aren't lawful
Nooses give
Gas smells awful
You might as well live."
- Dorothy Parker
The signs are all here: Mild sinus congestion and inflammation. Scratchy, tender throat. Vague, indeterminate soreness. Sudden dental sensitivity. Persistent sense of foreboding. I'm getting a head cold.
Not ideal timing, considering that tomorrow night is New Year's Eve, one of few established, national occasions in which conspicuous consumption and reckless abandon are not only expected but encouraged. But I am concerned that by the time the clock strikes midnight, I will be slathered with Vicks Vapo-Rub and wheezing into my pillow.
It could be worse, I suppose. I could have come down with this cold before my Vegas Vacation[1] and spent my Quality Family Time inadvertently flinging mucus at my immediate family. In fact, the unseasonably cold weather in the American southwest may be partially to blame for my ague, as more than once I impulsively braved nearly-freezing temperatures in mere shirtsleeves. Repeated contact with filthy gaming machines, undersanitized hotel linens and germ-encrusted airline equipment could not have helped, either.
I have been coming down with colds since before I was old enough to wipe my own nose and still I'm not sure how to proceed, particularly at this particular stage of illness. Should I rage against the infection, trying to slow its determined advance and perhaps break its will? Or should I embrace the sickness, wallow in it for a while, and let my immune system quickly and quietly do its work?
"Rest" is often prescribed as a sure-fire cure for what ails me, but I'm not sure if this means "sleep" or just a lack of exertion. Sleep doesn't really make any sense, because if I sleep when I'm usually awake, it generally means that I'll be awake when I'm usually asleep. And if I'm going to be awake and bored and fussy, I'd rather do so in the company of other awake people. It would be pretty frustrating for me to lie awake thinking about my deviated septum with J. laying next to me, dreaming about cheesecake.
Rest as in non-exertion sounds fine, especially if it means I can stay home from work.[2] But what does that really entail that's different from my usual non-work hours? More television and whining? Does it get me out of minor household chores? What's the policy on really deep, analytical thinking?
Often I will feel better after going to the gym. I'm not sure if that's because it splits my focus or improves my circulation or pumps up my endorphins or what. But it usually helps. Then again, I'm not sure that the best thing for me to do while sick is break out into a profuse sweat.
I will have to be particularly vigilant with regard to a love quarantine; it would be very bad for me to get J. sick at this time, as she is trying to wrap up one job this week and starting a new job next week. It has long been my philosophy that if someone can love you when you are sick -- and infectious and sloppy and ugly and irritable -- then that person really loves you. But in this case, love comes with a hazmat suit.
The only halfway good thing about a head cold is that it usually eventually becomes a chest cold, making it that much easier to do my Kathleen Turner impression. :et us hope it goes no farther south, though, lest I be forced to do my diptheria impression.
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[1]
Date: 2008-12-31 12:05 am (UTC)- a dyspeptic and frequently confused old woman in failing health;
- a callow young volleyball coach who spiced up his lessons with frequent references to pizza and beer;
- a six-foot-ten man whose personality alternated between genial giant and homicidal monster;
- an aging coot whose bizarre mannerisms could have been explained by prolonged exposure to toxic chemicals; and
- a clueless and cantankerous oaf who had some sort of mental breakdown in the middle of class, walked out, and never came back.
But it actually tastes pretty good. And it effervesces! Like Alka-Seltzer. And that's always fun.
[2]
Date: 2008-12-31 12:36 am (UTC)By and large, the silver lining of "staying home from work" is little more than aluminum siding. It's not really a vacation, because while you're out the work keeps coming, piling up on your desk and in your inbox, gaining urgency with every passing second. All it means is that you end up working twice as hard or twice as long when you finally do return. All things considered, I'd rather be healthy.