04 December 2008

The Death Cold

For over a week now I've been struggling with a little thing I have come to term The Death Cold. There seems to be no cure, no amount of sleep, no thousands of mgs of Vitamin C that can nuke this bad boy. At last I broke down and went to Boots to buy cold and flu medicine, only to find that my old beloved friend Nyquil (and sure, Dayquil, join in the party, though really, let's be honest, your nightlife brother steals your thunder) is not sold here...What would I drink (I mean, sip, in the quantity of 2 tablespoons) at night when I couldn't sleep? What would wipe out all of my ills? And so I resorted to the label-reading of all the new-to-me products on the shelf. Eventually I came to the conclusion that either the English are healthier, and that is why they seem to only have one cold and flu medicine, just under different labels, or two, the world has conspired against me and is delightfully planning my demise, hands rubbing together in scheming glee. Deciding at the end of a fruitless twenty minutes just to try all the medicinal options before me, I struggled to the register with caplets, tablets, syrups, teas, and lozenges overflowing in my arms. I spontaneously tossed some antibacterial handwipes and two Miffy kleenex boxes onto the precariously balanced pile before dumping it all unceremoniously onto the till counter.

And so the attack began: two caplets in, one fizzy vitamin c drink. One vapour-action dissolving lozenge, one mug of sickly sweet and tangy lemon and honey flu tea, two more caplets, one more fizzy vitamin c drink. A tablespoon of the cough syrup down, causing a violent gag reflex due to a flavour that can best be described as 'bile-forward with a vomit-like finish,' causing the entire bottle to be promptly binned with a swear word and a silent prayer to the absent Nyquil gods. And so goes the diet, for five straight days.

Is progress being made? I don't know. I definitely feel like my body's not my own, which can probably only be an improvement given how I treat it when it IS my own. Other than that, a sort of homeostasis seems be in place, the two warring halves of sick v. well each making headway at various times of the day, only to eventually call it a draw, as though they're staring each other down across a battlefield, daring one another to try and pull something funny. 'Okay, you can make the nose run, but I draw the line at adding a cough. You at least want a tickly throat? Okay, then relinquish some fatigue. Hey! Don't you DARE draw that mucus gun unless you're prepared to give up a headache. Okay, agreed.' And so the camps skirmish and symptoms attack and then retreat, taking turns, and no side seems to be winning the war...I fully anticipate my body remaining encamped here indefinitely, eventually pulling out playing cards and trading cigarettes.

In the meantime, if I seem a bit dull lately--and I mean dull here in the lack-luster, not-as-brightly-shining sense of the word, not the ennui-inducing sense of the word, although many apologies if the latter is the one that is more descriptive--then I promise you it is only a spell and it will ideally be over soon. After all, I've got a vitamin cannon up my sleeve.

4 comments:

Jeremy said...

I'm not a star wars nut, but somehow "the Death Cold" conjures up mental imagery of "the Death Star". :) Except with more inflammation and a nasal, snippy darth vader.

But I'm sorry you have a cold. And that you had a mediocre Boots experience. Did you talk to a chemist? In my experience they're often very helpful and friendly. Especially if you come in with a look of pain and suffering on your face. Maybe a tshirt with dabbed blood would also get some sympathy points?

Marty D. said...

i remember from my youth that Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas had some good recipes but be careful of urges to tie up the unwilling.

rest up :)

LatinaDiana said...

In reference to Jeremy's comment, they call them chemists over there?

Sharona, how can "chemists" live without NyQuil???? Any self-respecting chemist should refuse a world without NyQuil. NyQuil is the only solution to all of my ailments... sure, it causes strange dreams and when coupled with Sudafed gives the distinct impression that you are watching your body shuffle around like a drunken E.T., HOWEVER, coming out of a self-induced NyQuil coma is nothing short of the feeling Mighty Mouse must have after he takes a huge dump and then crawls out of a little hole in the wall to take flight and rid the world of all evil. Give me your address and I will mail you the medicine of Gods (that will count as your combined Christmas/Birthday but seriously... I have a FedEx discount.)(And I love you too much to see you suffer like this.)

alison said...

ah still acclimatizing......feel better! it's cold here this morning but i'm sure not quite as cold as there!.