I have a chest cold. Like a domino effect, I saw the cough gradually roll from the manager’s office to the next row, to the row after that, to the row after that, to me. I’m thinking that means it’s pretty darn contagious because, as I assured Nick last night, we don’t typically lick each other at work. At least not during the even months.
Meanwhile, I have injections scheduled on Monday. We’re going into a guess-and-check theory with the pain management now, which is a hell of a lot more of an effort than my former HMO allowed. At my first visit to the pain clinic, the doctor asked me, standing up, to bend forward as far as I could. When my palms rested against the floor, she said, “Okay, no problem with range of motion.”
But apparently being naturally flexible isn’t just a good conversation starter, it can also mean that the ligaments around certain joints are weak and prone to overuse. So, round one, they’re going to put me out and numb the joints on either side of my lower spine. The catch? Every time we’re talking in terms of general anesthesia, the patient has to be absolutely the healthiest of healthy.
So I’ve been trying everything to get rid of this sucker. I am notorious for nurturing a good lung infection for unnaturally long periods (see: childhood), but it’s been years since I’ve had to deal with one so, maybe… Besides, my lifestyle is a whole lot healthier now: that’s gotta count for something.
The remedies aren’t ladylike at all but I’ve been open. The two that seem to be helping the most? Coughing up the ickiness and spitting it out and making myself sweat (a lot). This morning I woke with a sore, scratchy throat (coughing does that to you), but I no longer sound like Sophie purring when I take a deep breath.
So now I’m in super scary Lysol mode. I’m squirting the Purell on my hands at least every hour and using a Chlorox wipe on my desk, mouse, and keyboard every morning. I’m THISCLOSE to wearing a mask. And by God! Keep sick children away from me! Until this bug, I’ve been relatively resilient against adult germs, but those kids come up with the nastiest, treatment-resistant things!
At home, Nick has been careful not to kiss me on the mouth (as he makes fun of my cough). I shake my head but leave him with his false sense of security. This sucker’s airborne. Just so long as he doesn’t get it before Monday and give it back to me, I’m surprisingly okay with him getting sick.