All the traipsing through airports, day-after-Christmas shopping, shoveling snow without a muffler around my face, hugging my sick little grandsons and visiting pediaticians has landed me in bed honking and hacking. I'm cuddled up with a nebulizer, box of tissues, Ricola cough drops, Vicks VapoRub and both a nasal and inhaled corticosteroid. Oh, and my laptop and iPod Touch (a Christmas present from my husband).
Nothing like a dose of reality. It’s been eons since I’ve had a respiratory infection or asthma symptoms that I couldn’t nip at the first sign. As I retrieved my Aeroneb from the top shelf of the linen closet, I wondered if I had all the parts needed, if it would start and if I’d saved the instruction booklet. I unzipped the small case to find everything intact; the palm-sized, battery-operated base powered up on the first try. I plugged the power connector into the back of the nebulizer cup, poured the medicine in and instantly a fine mist silently streamed into my burning airways. I must remember to store it that way when this episode is over.
My husband has already been exposed to whatever I have, but I insisted that he sleep in the other room last night. Even so, while I was coughing up a lung, he was at the door asking if I was OK (no)--and in the rare moments of silence when I had stopped coughing, he was checking to make sure I was still alive.
It’s always worse at night, although the daytime version is no picnic either. John is taking me to the internist at 3:00 to find out if this really is bronchitis or if it's pneumonia or a sinus infection. I don’t feel like crawling out of my blankets, brushing my hair or changing out of my sweatshirt hoodie, flannel jammies and knee socks and climbing into uncontaminated clothing to go to the doctor’s office or anywhere at all. Maybe I could just roll the blankets around me and go in dressed as is. Somehow I don’t think that’s going to happen.
What I really want is Sandra Fusco-Walker’s (AANMA’s Director of Patient Advocacy) magic Italian garlic cure. Rather, I want someone to make it for me, since John’s specialty is pouring cereal. Here's her recipe: Boil two heads of garlic until fork-tender. Slice in half, separating the top from the bottom. Heat olive oil in cast-iron skillet, season the garlic halves and cook until golden on both sides. Smear onto French bread, and watch out! Talk about pulling the plug on mucus!
It seems this crud is everywhere but it has no name--no epidemic or pandemic status in the news. Despite pumps of hand sanitizers at every cash register and in my purse, this bug needs no handshake to multiply. Just the holidays.
Commiserate at editor@aanma.org.
(By way of disclosure, Aeroneb, Ricola, Vicks and Sandra’s Magic Italian Garlic Cure did not pay for mentions in this blog.)
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
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