Of course it can get worse, but...

when will it get better? I'm not talking about the economy or anything relative and germane to the world at large. I'm way more shallow than that. I'm talking about my effing cold-slash-flu-slash-tuberculosis.

Last night R woke up with a fever. I woke up when he did with a headache. He took ibuprophen and went back to sleep, skipping our morning walk. I slogged out of bed after tossing for an hour so as not to disappoint our walking buddy, took a dose of Emergen-C that my daughter recommended, and tromped along with hair and skin that positively ached. They were actually in pain. It's a fallacy that hair is dead if you ask me. Mine was dying painfully and without benefit of morphine.

When I got home I took TWO Aleve because my head was pounding and it helped. It also made me too scared to try the Day-Quil liquigels I bought to get through the day because I was afraid I would be doubling up on too many pain relievers. Oh, for R the ibuprophen did the trick and he went off to work.

I took a shower and went to work with extra doses of Emergen-C in my pocket. I had an early meeting with bigwigs that I was generously invited to regarding a candidate for one of the director positions at the university. I knew enough to keep my mouth shut because a tenure of less than six months does not make me an expert on anything and I was afraid that anything I asked would be just plain stupid. I was also trying not to let too much air into my lungs so I wouldn't awaken my deathly cough during the one-hour meeting. Of course I had a spasm, and of course the candidate was trying to explain something (I have no idea what) and I was trying to decide if I should step outside while trying to apologize but I was afraid if I spoke there may be one of those coughs that results in vomiting and I would forever be known as that person who vomited in the good conference room. That is just not something you live down. Ever.

Okay, this leads to a funny story. If you're vomit squeamish, avert your eyes.

When R was in high school, he had bouts of chronic bronchitis (this is before I knew him). It was due to smoking and he was advised by his physician to give up cigarettes. He was the only 16-year old I know who was advised to quit smoking for health reasons that were actually occuring. Never mind the fact that both of his parents and most of his family smoked around him, he was supposed to give it up.

Anyway, he was in the really dank and nasty cafeteria in our old high school building. It was a low-ceiling basement room and was just awful. Not a speck of natural light. He was getting in line to leave the cafeteria after finishing lunch (how quaint) and he had a cough spasm. One of those bone-wracking ones that would leave you unconscious if it could. He was embarrassed enough by the hacking, but then realized that he was going to puke. Phlegm and a freshly eaten lunch would be involved. That has got to be one panicky feeling, but there isn't anything you can do about it when it happens.

At the moment he realized there was no turning back, the lights in the cafeteria went out. Flipping the lights off was a frequent high school trick that goofy boys played but it was especially effective in that dark, basement cafeteria and elicited shrieks and screams. In the din and commotion, he seized the opportunity to relieve himself of the obstruction that was choking him and made a bee-line for the door. He then slipped out the door and was on his way before the lights were switched back on. In the distance, he could hear "Ohhhhhh grossssss!" More shrieks. Embarrassment averted.

So back to me. Today I worked through lunch and then left work at 2:00. I came home, put on sweats, and collapsed on the sofa. Again. Tonight I took a hot bath, trying to sweat out this stuff and also to moisturize my lungs. Again. I ate leftovers and had a serious spasm on the couch, nearly leaving me unconscious. Again.

Maybe tomorrow I'll feel better? Hope springs eternal.