An Ode to My Cold

BY LAURA WALCHER,  

PRESIDIO SENTINEWednesday, December 2, 2009

I have actually welcomed a cold or two in my past. As I recall, one saved me from an unwelcome sit-down with a client, and another, from a German opera I was only attending out of politeness.

“Welcomed,” is actually inexact. “Tolerated,” or “been grateful to,” would be more accurate.

In truth, colds are too miserable to be “liked” under any circumstances. And I deeply, passionately hate the one I have now.

We’re not talking emerging tiny tickle in my throat. No small, creeping sniffle, no friendly warning. No. One minute I was a hale, healthy, hearty person, and the next, a sniveling, hacking wretch.

In shock, I’ve pulled out all the stops. With a full calendar, a selection of family crises, colleagues depending on my full focus, I’ve had no choice but to launch a ferocious counter-attack. If this little sucker was going to immoliate me in moments, I was going to get rid of it in equal time.

I raided all our cabinets: Zicam. Aspirin. NyQuil. DayQuil. Green Tea. Vitamin C. Anti-histamins. For further insurance, my doctor prescribed Azithromycen, Prednisone. Inhalers.

Day 5:  I think I’m winning. I didn’t even take a four-hour nap today.

Day 8:  What’s good is, I don’t have swine flu. But at the rate everyone avoids me, I might as well have it. So, like it or not, I’ve stayed home, for which the world at large might consider thanking me. And, I have tried to maintain a positive attitude, which has intermittently worked. Consider, with me, the up-sides of being grounded by a cold:

a) my email inbox says “253 messages; 86 unread.” I read ‘em.

b) my computer “billing” file is still holding my invoices to numerous publications that aren’t even in print anymore. Deleted.

c) I gave away three boxes of toddler-aged books and games (since my “toddlers” are now nearly teenagers)

d) I actually practiced scales on my flute (this discipline has been exceeding hampered by sniffling, sneezing and coughing, but that’s how devoted I’ve been. There are just some things one can’t do well while playing the flute, and those also include smiling, eating and talking. That’s why so many more people play the piano, say, than the flute.)

e) I probably needn’t elaborate on the giant-size stacks on every office surface that I’ve reduced to mere inches.

f) Read my book club book (I recently heard of a prominent couple who organized a book club, never read the books, yet consistently led the discussions. Impressive! )

g) I cut my hair (possibly, a mistake.)

h) I wrote a poem to my cold – - worthy of Garrison Keillor. ( I should explain that no matter what poem I write they always turn into limericks, even if called an “Ode”:

Ode to My Cold

I’ve missed many a dinner and date
Due to this condition I hate!
 Forgive me this tone, 
But I’m worn to the bone,
Can this really become my true fate?

Oh, cold! Begone! Take your leave!
I give you a ho! And a heave!
Your visit’s too long 
Go where you belong!
A’snuffle in some other sleeve!

(OK, no critics. I don’t exactly get big bucks for this stuff, y’know?)