The Joy Of An Ordinary Cold

I have a cold. I’m sniffling and sneezing and coughing so bad I’ve seriously choked three times today. I hung up hacking to death, mid-phone call, on the woman at the American Express customer service number. I am semi-pouting because I may not be able to go out of town tomorrow like I had planned. My head feels like it’s stuffed with rocks. My body aches. Driving five hours doesn’t seem in the cards.

I cannot believe I ever lived in an uncomfortable body for so many years (and this, by the way, is still nothing in comparison). One that needs constant attention and even when doted over and attended to, still doesn’t feel better.

I was teary this afternoon. This cold has kicked off some inner emotional turmoil. It’s a reminder of how bad it was to be sick and how much I never want to be that way again. I know it’s over now but it was apparently much more torturous than I realized at the time. I always joke that I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder now from being chronically ill. It’s kind of funny, but maybe not such a far off theory.

I always had a hard time explaining to people what it was like to be sick, all the time. And now, as a healthy person (minus the temporary germ infested being I am now), I finally have a very inferior analogy that the general (non chronically ill) population will understand.

Imagine having a cold (but tenfold the symptoms and pain and whatever else) and doctors telling you it will never go away. Or better yet, doctors telling you it will, but then year after year, you have the same cold without so much as a 4 second break. Everything hurts all the time. Your nose won’t stop running. You have to keep getting up to run to the bathroom to blow it but you cough and sneeze all along the way. You are too tired to keep getting up but you have to; your nose is in charge here. You try to sleep when night finally comes, because that’s the only time you can escape the cold, but alas, it keeps you up. Your sinuses hurt, your throat is on fire and your ears ache constantly. You can hardly breathe so you can’t lie down. No position is comfortable. And, there isn’t a cold medicine at the drug store that has done a thing for you except flood you with side effects.

Ok, visual nightmare over.

I’m smiling now that it’s all in perspective. I’m grateful that all I have is a cold. Thank goodness this will be over, for sure. No doubt. When I go to bed tonight, I won’t have to lie awake wondering if I will sneeze and choke and have compromised breathing for the rest of my life; or if any of that will eventually kill me.

Who knew one could be so thankful for the sniffles? I’m so elated that I might even call the American Express rep back just to tell her I’m okay. And that, yes, I’ll be paying that bill on time this month.

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About Amy B. Scher

A passionate author, pioneering patient, and sassy spirit with just enough sweetness to get me by, I live by my self-created motto: when life kicks your ass, kick back.Amy B. Scher's profile Amy B. Scher's blog