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Upside to being sick gets lost in the sniffle
(by Christine Thome - December 10, 2008)
BEYOND MY CONTROL, BY CHRISTINE THOME
Upside to being sick gets lost in the sniffle
'Tis the season.
Not for tinsel and merriment but for colds and the flu.
I have been fighting a respiratory thing for a while. Last week, I finally put aside my "moms don't get sick" attitude and dragged myself into the doctor's office, hoping for a miracle cure.
"The strep test came back negative," he said. "I hate to tell you, but you've got the same virus that half the town has."
"But can't you give me something?" I begged.
"It's a virus. Giving you an antibiotic won't help," he said.
"I don't need an antibiotic," I cried. "I need something to knock me unconscious until this thing works itself out of my body!" Sleeping for a week straight suddenly sounded very wonderful. I bet hibernating bears don't get colds or the flu.
"Sorry," he said. "The only thing I can offer you is a sucker or a sticker on your way out."
I was in a spiteful mood and determined to get my money's worth, even if he wouldn't prescribe medication. So I took two stickers and three suckers.
When my kids came home from school that afternoon, they found me flat on the couch, surrounded by snotty tissues and wrappers from the hundreds of sore-throat lozenges I had consumed.
"What's the matter, Mom?" my daughter asked.
"I've got a rotten cold, honey. I'm just not feeling very good."
"My science teacher said that, when you're sick, your nails and hair grow 20 percent faster," she said.
Well, isn't that just the kicker I needed? Suddenly, I have nails worthy of a manicure and hair that begs someone to run his fingers through it but no energy to go out on the town and show off my newfound beauty.
"What about weight? Do I lose more weight when I'm sick," I asked, hoping for a silver lining to this situation. I wouldn't mind being sick if I knew I could come out of it 10 pounds lighter.
"I don't think so. I think your metabolism slows down to conserve energy," she replied.
This is a cruel, cruel world we live in.
"Well, in that case, get me a big bowl of ice cream. My throat is killing me," I said. "And throw some hot-fudge sauce on it to warm my chills."
Later that evening, my husband, John, came home from work to find me in the same spot on the couch.
"You look like hell. What's wrong?" he asked.
"I'm sick. I've been sick for over a week. Thanks for noticing," I croaked through my dry throat.
"Your voice sounds like you've got a three-pack-a-day habit going," he laughed.
"Thanks," I groaned.
"Actually, I think it's kinda sexy," he grinned as he kissed my forehead.
Wonderful. Now, I had beautiful nails, flowing hair and great sex appeal but still no energy to use it to my advantage.
I puckered my lips and tried to give him my sexiest "come hither" look, but it just made my eyes water and threw me into a coughing fit.
"I'll get dinner going. If you need anything, just whistle," he said.
"You know how to whistle, don't you?" he continued, melding my froggy voice with Lauren Bacall's famous quote. "You just put your lips together -- and blow."
I puckered my lips again and tried to blow a whistle his way, but the only thing I blew was a snot bubble out of my nose.
So much for sex appeal.
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