The Cold War

Tissues. Empty glasses of water lying around. My pink nose. My disappearing voice. Laughing at the funny impersonations having a hoarse voice allows me to do. Sore throat the next day from doing funny impersonations.

Cold is just a guest. No bother. He comes and goes every now and then, and I guess if he takes a bath he leaves the water running, which would explain the watery eyes and nose. He also has a tendency to light fires in my throat to keep himself warm at night, but it’s nothing I can’t put out with a little glass of cold water. I’ve heard he likes to dress up like a girl, and put on high heels and boas; though, it must be true because I think I can feel the feathers tickling in my nose…so I keep sneezing. But no bother, he only visits me once or twice a year, so I expect these things, and I usually don’t pay him any attention at all.

That is until he falls asleep. I figure he sleeps when I sleep because that’s when it happens. I lay my head down on the pillow, and all of a sudden, I can’t breathe. I’m not one of those people who has the ability to sleep with my mouth open: My mouth doesn’t just keep itself open, I keep my mouth open, and when I fall asleep…my mouth closes and I wake up in a fit of gasping and coughing. Clearly, not being able to breathe through my nose is a problem. I wonder over this phenonemon every time Cold comes to stay, and I try to go to sleep, only to find, just then- when I want to sleep- I can’t breathe. I’ve come to the conclusion that Cold spends the night in my nose, which doesn’t seem like a big deal, but I suppose when my head is horizontal and not vertical, he rolls over and blocks the air passage, making it impossible for me to breathe.

In the past, I’ve propped my mouth open with a thumb, and this was not sucking my thumb…it was strategic maneuvering to prevent my mouth from closing after I fell asleep, therefore, insuring that I don’t wake up by Cold suffocating me. But last night, I happened to see a bottle of Dayquil. I read on the label, multi cold symptom relief. I knew, of course, this would not cure my cold, and though my throat no longer hurt, my eyes no longer watered, and the majority of Cold’s things had been packed and he was ready to go, I figured I could do without the stuffiness while I slept. I figured, hey, I’ll take this here Dayquil, and Cold can go sleep somewhere else, and I can breathe through my nose tonight.

The Cold war had begun.

I have never been one to fight Cold. I can’t help it if he shows up, he’s really stubborn and I’m aware that I can’t just make him leave. Doctor’s can’t even make him leave. So, I always just deal. Last night’s decision to take Dayquil is the first attack in a very, very long time that I’ve had on Cold. Boy did it backfire.

There it was. 30 ml. Orange. Almost transparent. Thick like syrup. Sitting on the counter. It had been years, and when I say years, definitely more than 10 since I’ve had cough syrup or anything of that nature. At my house, we accept Cold and just continue on with our lives, so I had forgotten the horrors of Dayquil. But something in me didn’t forget, because I couldn’t make myself drink it. I thought it was silly, or course, but when I picked up that little cup, my hand shook, I think I broke out in sweat, little child-me somewhere was freaking out…I pushed this gut feeling I had away and brought the cup to my mouth and swallowed….coughed, choked, gagged, screamed….

Maybe I was over dramatic but terrible is such an understatement. I could feel large clumps of goo roll lazily down my throat. It had this overwhelming taste, almost similar to a cough drop…but not delightful at all like a cough drop. And what’s worse is that it had this cool, minty affect that opened my noses so that I could taste it even more. And it clung to my tongue, and the inside walls of my cheeks, my uvula, and my esophagus…I imagine if I had looked in my mouth and down my pharynx there would have been orange slime all the way down. It was like somewhere, in some demented Candy land, an evil orange jolly rancher was melted and given to the human race as punishment for eating their candy…so, so cruel.

The cup was half-full. Definitely not half-empty. I cowered from it. I Talked with myself, debated with myself, threw my hands into the air like a five year old and jumped up and down in absolute defiance. But I knew I had to finish it. In short, I attempted to recreate the I-can’t-breathe-situation in my nose, and then drink it without smelling it….but that didn’t work. The whole time it’s like I was trying to gulp it down quickly, but it had little arms clinging to my tongue, refusing to go down, and so, it seemed like I wasn’t swallowing it at all…it was just floating about in my mouth. Finally, I threw my head back, yelling, and shuddered when it was all over.

I gulped down sweet tea. I walked upstairs. I thought I was going to be sick. Really, I could have thrown up…and I realized that I will NEVER take Dayquil ever again. Cold is much kinder than that.

So here it is, Cold isn’t that bad….but Dayquil, “the help,” is pure evil. Don’t let that fun, tangy orange color deceive you…or that off minty smell. It’s only a front to cover its ugliness with. An ugliness that will take it’s time as it slides down your throat and into your stomach where, even there, you can feel it cackle.