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...ugh...

October 24, 2008

The First Rider continues his parade through my little family.

While Tank has gotten better (he only now has a very loud cough, wherein he only sometimes remembers to cover his mouth), and Cookie has stopped throwing up liquid of a violent yellow, I know am fully encrusted with the Ick.

It started yesterday simple enough: cough, cough, spit, ewww, that's gross. Last night it spiraled down into a fever. I think I've shaken the fever (Diet Dr. Pepper, panacea for the masses) and I'm not wracked with chills like I was yesterday afternoon.

I initially started out using some 'old home remedies'. Unfortunately, the hen hasn't really been sucking much of the Ick out of my lungs (perhaps I chose poorly in opting for a Rhode Island Red) and drinking my own urine only made my breath smell. Worse. I also went out a punted half a dozen cats--not so much for their ability to heal me, but more for my own personal entertainment. Laughter is the best medicine, so I guess it did serve a purpose. Meow. I also brewed up a tea made from various herbs I found around my yard, but about fifteen minutes after imbibing, I just sat there and giggled while wondering why my fingers don't fing.

Finally, I decided to live life by my second mantra: better living through chemistry. I pounded some mucinex, downed some Day-quil (which promptly knocked me out), and drank lots of water, ginger ale, and the aforementioned panacea for the masses. I repeated the ritual last night before bed, this time adding a healthy slather of Vap-o-rub. My wife looked over and wondered why I was rubbing it there, and when I gave her a knowing, lascivious chuckle, she ran screaming from the room. I haven't seen her since. If anyone sees a large-chested redhead with strained vocal chords and eyes the size of dinner plates, send her back this way, please.

My tour of the pharmaceutical aisle has paid off as I now have broken my fever and I'm coughing up much less phlegm. But that which I do cough up is a lovely shade of orange yellow. Puts me in mind of Play-doh. Guess I know what the kids are getting for Christmas.

7 comments:

Poobomber said...

You and I are at about the same stage then. Mnnnn playdoh phlegm.

Also - if I saw a large chested redhead running my way, I certainly wouldn't be turning her around and sending her away. Are you crazy?

Gwen said...

Sorry the chicken thing didn't work out. I forgot to mention my grandma resided in an asylum.

Feel better soon!

Will Shannon said...

Wow, I did see a woman fitting that description run past me at the bus stop...

Given what you were up to, though, can anyone blame her?

BeckEye said...

I tried Mucinex once, but it didn't work. Then again, I never could hock up phlegm, something my Dad always ridiculed me for. It's the one time (aside from trying to throw a football) when my true girliness rears its ugly head.

the iNDefatigable mjenks said...

@ poo: yeah, probably the drugs talking. Just be nice to her. If you nibble on her elbow, it really gets her going.

@ gwen: No, you didn't mention that part. But, even so, I shouldn't shout down any home remedies until I try them, right? I am a scientist, after all.

@ Will: Perhaps the mentholaphiles out there can call her crazy.

@ beckeye: Yeah, I'm not so impressed with the mucinex. I was able to get more stuff out of my chest using Robitussin (or the Target brand knock off) than I was with the Mucinex. Also, I might suggest sleeping with a vaporizor/humidifier beside you at night. Seemed to work wonders for loosening my phlegm.

Also...I can't throw a football.

Hap said...

I guess I'm missing out on the pretty colored phlegm, though my wife's brother knitted a blanket in just that color. I just feel like I lifted a lot of things without actually doing anything useful. And I sleep a lot.

I can throw a football, but catching one has a >1% chance of dislocating a finger. (I've caught some, and dislocated a pinkie in grad school trying.)

There was a redhead at my retired coworker's funeral, but I don't think she was yours, so I didn't worry about it. She wasn't screaming, either.

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