Cold War

I hate being sick.  That's no big revelation, I doubt that there is anybody who enjoys being sick.   I'm not sick very often but it seems like, every year about this time, I get clobbered with some type of bug which just makes my life miserable for a few days.  In an effort to find a bit of relief, I'll drag myself to the store in search of some miracle concoction that will instantly cure all my aches and pains as well as make me handsome and happy...just like the teevee ads claim.

So anyway, I shuffle into the store looking like the walking dead not having shaved or bathed in a couple of days searching for the cold medicine aisle.  Mothers clutch their children as I lurch past them and security is following me whispering in their walkie talkies for backup.  I turn a corner and see cold medicine.  Lots of it.  Not just for cold; for flu, for sneezing, for coughing, for sneezing and coughing, decongestant, expectorant, headache, fever, daytime, nighttime...the friggen list goes on and on.  I'm standing there trying to match my symptoms with some particular product and the whole ordeal is making my head spin more than it is already.  Security is grabbing their pepper spray.  I need to make a decision, a purchase, and get out of there.

Then I remember when I was a little boy and caught a bad cold.  My Dad use to fix me up with some really vile concoction of sugar and whiskey.  Or maybe it was honey.  Whatever, it was absolutely horrible and my Dad had to threaten me with a whuppin in order to get me to drink it down.  I now understand that it's primary purpose was to knock me out so I would sleep and he could get some relief from a hacking kid through the night.  It worked.  I slept like a log and woke up feeling much better.

That's basically what all cold/flu remedies try to do.  They don't cure, just mask the symptoms so that you sleep, so that your body can concentrate on healing itself.  With that thought in mind I just grabbed a bottle of NyQuil (generic, of course).

 Today I feel almost human.