Sick. Of being Sick.

By Amy Coward

I stayed home from work recently to nurse a nasty cold. It was one of those miserable days when you could only lie on the couch, with tissues, juice and the tv remote nearby. I figured one full day of rest, no meetings, no email and no expectations would surely cure me.

Having the day to myself, I tried to read for a while. But between the coughing and dozing off, I wasn’t getting anywhere. I realized I would have to be spoon-fed my entertainment and resorted to watching television. As the day wore on, I don’t know which was worse – not being able to breathe or watching tv. I flipped the channels hoping to find some escape from my misery. Unfortunately, the programming only worsened my condition. Out of the hundreds of channels I pay for each month, few were offering any kind of pleasant diversion.

Every show I turned to offered recaps of the stories on social media from the week prior – escaped llamas, some blue and black dress (or was it white and gold), and the death of Dr. Spock. Shopping channels were selling vacuum cleaners and jewelry. News channels were discussing the identity of Jihad John, a toxic topic to be sure.

And then there were all the commercials for various health conditions. I watched and began to wonder if I had any of these diseases. Did I find it hard to breathe sometimes? (Yes, today as a matter of fact.) Do my feet tingle? Does my stomach hurt? Gosh, maybe it’s something serious. Then I hear the potential side effects for the drugs being advertised and decide I would rather die of the disease. Thanks, anyway, Big Pharma.

Finally, I land on the food channel where people are concocting recipes from strange ingredients out of a basket. I blow my nose, take my temperature again and find myself wondering what it will be like to taste food again. Then I try to remember if it’s better to starve a fever and feed a cold? Or starve a cold and feed a fever? I don’t know. So I always feed it – whatever it is. I figure if I snack enough during the day, surely something will make me feel better. I try all the traditional “cures” – chicken soup, orange juice and chocolate (proven to have medicinal properties). By the end of the day, I have resorted to wine. Maybe the alcohol will get rid of these germs or at least get me some blessed sleep.

The next day when I drag myself out of bed, I realize I simply must go back to work. The thought of staying home one more day was just too much to take. I grabbed my box of tissues and my cocktail of cold medicine and cough syrup and went on my way, hoping I was no longer contagious. I realize that there are hundreds of episodes of Law and Order I’ll miss and I may not know if Kiki spills her secret to Silas on General Hospital, but I’m feeling pretty good about being at my desk getting something done. I’m sure if more llamas get loose, I’ll hear about it.

Amy Coward is a public relations professional in Columbia, SC. When she is not managing the madness of event planning at Palmetto Health Foundation, she is turning her empty nest upside down looking for fun and finding it. 

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