Sick of Being Sick

I hate being sick.

There is nothing good about being sick, except perhaps being able to better appreciate one’s health. Other than that, nothing.

My usual cold progresses like this:

Day 1: A very sore throat. Other than that, I usually feel fine. Well, perhaps a little tired. But my throat is so sore, swallowing is difficult and the thought of talking is painful. So I sit in silence trying not to swallow, which is next to impossible (the trying not to swallow part, not the sitting in silence). Somehow you swallow more often when you are consciously trying not to swallow. Coupled with my sore throat is the sinking realization that I am going to be sick for the next week or so. All in all, Day 1 is quite depressing.

Day 2: My incredibly sore throat is gone; however, sinus congestion settles in for the long haul and I begin running a low-grade fever. Just enough to make me loopy. This is the time I do not like to get out of bed. Watching television or reading is too much of an effort. The few times I am conscious, my Brain will argue with my Body.

Brain: Get up and drink some fluid.
Body: I don’t want to.
Brain: You will get dehydrated and feel even worse.
Body: I can’t feel worse than this.
Brain: Yes you can. Get up and drink!
Body: You get up and drink. I’m staying in bed. Bed comfy . . . bed good.
Brain: You’ll regret this tomorrow.
Body: I just want to die already (goes back to sleep and is non-responsive).

Sometimes the brain wins, but not too often. Sometimes I do not even manage to take any medicine, because I can’t drag my sorry carcass out of bed to do that.

Day 3: Fever is gone (hurray!), but is replaced by body aches (boo!) Day 3 is very uncomfortable because of the body aches. No position feels comfortable for more than a few minutes. Sinus congestion is in full stop-up mode (worse than LA traffic during “rush” hour) and makes me continuously blow my nose and breathe through my mouth. Breathing through my mouth makes my throat mildly sore (but nothing like Day 1).

At least during Day 3 I am able to watch television and read, but only a little, because I am exhausted. Still, my Brain begins to win more arguments, so I drink more liquids, take medicine and eat. Speaking of eating, I noticed that while I was sick I ate more quickly than normal. I mean, I was like a steam shovel going at it. Then, I realized my chest would get really tight so I would stop eating and inhale.

Ahh…the realization hit me: I cannot eat and breathe at the same time, since I can only breathe through my mouth! And since for me “eating” includes biting, chewing and swallowing, that’s a long time to go without breathing.

So, I end up hurriedly shoving food in my mouth, chewing, then gasping for air. Shovel food, chew, gasp; shovel food, chew, gasp in a bizarre rhythm. I swear, one time I was so hungry (shovel food, chew-chew, shovel more food, chew-chew-chew, big gasp, shovel food, chew-chew, shovel more food chew-chew-chew. . . well, you get the picture) that I found myself light-headed in the middle of my meal due to lack of oxygen. I am sure that is true and not just my imagination.

Day 4: Most of my body aches are gone (yay!), but the cough arrives. The congestion in my sinus insidiously begins moving to my chest. Coughing jags cause my chest to hurt and I am grouchy because I have not been able to breathe properly in three days. I mean, it’s difficult to sleep or do anything when one cannot breathe. No position or inventive pillow construction can truly help. Many times a good nose spray will help, but you have to use it sparingly and only for a few days or else it will begin constricting the sinus passages, having the exact opposite effect of what you’re using it for.

Also, by Day 4, that’s four days of not having a good, restful sleep. I am too sick to do anything except the most sedentary of activities; and my cough is the type that makes people shift away, because you sound contagious. Also, the nose-blowing/dripping and congestion has not stopped since Day 2. This means that I feel like I have been operating underwater during all this time and the tender skin under my nose is raw. See if you’re not irritable after all that.

Day 5 and 6: Congestion is not as bad, but still definitely sticking around, so to speak. Coughing comes in jags. Usually if I do not talk, I barely cough. Once I start coughing, I will continue coughing until a lung is about to pop out. It’s more of a cough that turns into a vicious hack. I am pretty sure I do not have TB, though.

One of the worst things about this time in my cold progression is that I have an appetite, but eating chocolate and cheese and other items of creamy goodness make me feel terrible. They make my throat itch and increase my already overwhelming amount of . . . er, mucus. Not good.

Also by this time I begin getting quite restless. When I was younger, I would go out at this point and do something. When I was younger, I also relapsed more often than I do now. Hopefully this means I have matured – I am able to show more restraint, more impulse control and the ability to defer gratification . . . to some degree. Not perfect, but definitely a higher degree.

Day 7+: Getting ready to join the real world, even though I have picked up an upper repertory infection in the last couple of days. Somehow, overwhelming fatigue kicks in while I’m getting ready to go back to school or back to work, despite my desire to once again dwell in the land of the living. Coughing and blowing my nose slowly tapers off (hopefully).

Still, it may be a good idea to buy stocks in Ricola and Kleenex.