I’ve been battling a head and chest cold for a couple of weeks now. I’m not a very good sick person. I’m not one of those women who can be sick as a dog and still just pull up her boot straps and carry on. She can be running a fever, coughing up a lung and her head can be so congested it feels like an elephant is standing on it under water. But she still gets up, feeds the kids, irons her husband’s shirt, runs the carpool, grocery shops, does the banking, unclogs the toilet, cuts the grass, prepares dinner and wins a Nobel Peace Prize all by 6:00 pm.
Yea, that’s not me.
I blame it on my mom. When I was a kid… I was pretty healthy. I didn’t get any of the typical childhood illnesses. I’ve still never had the Chicken Pox or Whooping Cough. I had one mump in 5th grade. Just one. On the left side. It was no big deal, but it did keep me from being in the school Christmas play. So my best friend, Diana, got to be the winter fairy and toss snowflakes made out of shaved soap instead of me. It was a Brady Bunch special in the making.
All that to say, on the rare occasion that I did get sick, Mom would thoroughly dote on me. She’d make a special little bed on the couch and prop me up on big fluffy pillows. She’d make me a mug of Campbell’s Chicken Noodle Soup, put a cold wash cloth on my forehead and stroke my hair saying things like, “My poor baby feels icky”.
It’s no wonder I become such a big baby when I’m feeling sick. Instead of rationally thinking about beefing up my Vitamin C, downing Airbourne and sucking Zinc tablets… my first thought is simply, “I want my Mommy”…
But because Mom lives 2500 miles away… being sick is not nearly as enjoyable as it used to be. So I’ve had to
seek out other means of comfort when under the weather (aka “on death’s doorstep”… I’m not dramatic or anything). I’ve tried many a home remedy. I’ve gone the holistic natural route. But the only joy I’ve found comparable is in that beautiful emerald green liquid called, “NyQuil”.
Yes, the NyQuil magic that causes your toes to tingle moments before entering into an unconscious bliss. Sure, there’s a few seconds of gag reflex immediately after downing a little plastic cup full. But a quick gulp of Diet Coke as a chaser and you’re good to go.
Within about 20 minutes that warm fuzzy feeling starts to wash over your body and the next thing you know you are in a lovely NyQuil Coma. Lovely.
There’s really no point to this post other than I wanted to whine a little about feeling sick. I wanted a little sympathy since Mom isn’t here to stroke my hair and spoon-feed me soup. But I am grateful for friends and community who reach out when I don’t feel well. I’m thankful for my neighbor Miss Josephine who popped in on me to see how I was feeling. And thankful for the people in my Neighborhood Group who covered for me and ran things without me. And thankful for my friend Missi who stealthily left lemons for my tea and Whole Foods chicken soup on my porch. And for my roommate Meghan – who lets me drink her all orange juice (wait, she may not know about that)…
Anyway, Mom is always the best source of comfort. But when she’s not available, I am so very grateful for my friends who love me well.
And for NyQuil… yes, really grateful for NyQuil.