Pgh Lesbian Correspondents

I’m living these days with a good old fashioned nasty cold. The sort that doesn’t let you rest without aches or wheezing or existential grief.

My pragmatic self had stocked up on soup, tissue, and generic nyquil. My better half trundled off to the store for ginger ale. I even managed a shower without hacking up a lung.

I had my flu shot and just saw my PCP in mid-December so no worries about hypochondriac fueled visits to WebMD to determine if my particular cough or wheeze or phlegm hue foreshadows disaster. I’m fine.

But you all know that particular misery of waking at ungodly morning hours with your throat on fire but simultaneously unable to swallow. I have to pee, ease open my throat enough to accept a lozenger, and try to muffle my coughing so I don’t break a rib. All the while, untangling myself from the critters and not breaking Ledcat’s rule about stealing her covers.

It’s not pretty. In the bathroom, I cough without regard for social propriety, take another swig of store-brand Nyquil, and fumble around for my nasal spray. Then I collapse back into bed until the pitiful wailing of a critter wanting to be fed rouses me into another round of coughing.

My go-to cold supplies include Vicks vaporub, halls cough drops, essential oil mist diffuser because humidifier is broken, Breathe Easy tea, and soup. I’ve indulged in Tom Kha soup and a tasty bean/ham/kale concoction. I made oatmeal in the crockpot to last several days. I drink tons of water. I wash my hands. I make myself get dressed each day to minimize opportunities for depression to squeeze into my head. I gripe about the grippe on Facebook.

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Most of all, I keep reminding myself how fortunate I am to have general good health, insurance, a loving-if-grumbly partner, warmth, comfort, multiple soup choices, and friends to offer sympathy and home-remedy tips on Facebook. My family tree research has heightened my appreciation for being sick in the modern era – so many ancestors died from influenza and other common ailments.

Tonight, I graduate from soup to lemon & garlic chicken with rice, 60 Minutes, and maybe a few episodes of Derry Girls. Meanwhile, I’m cozy with my slipper socks and layers of leggings.

If I’m lucky, tomorrow Ledcat will take me to Starbucks!