December 15, 2004
Cold

“I godda code in da node.”  And a happy camper I ain’t.  With a cold absolutely ravaging my body there’s no solace in being continually informed, “it’s going around.”  Furthermore, constantly hearing “poor baby” after admitting, “playing golf in Mesquite” to the question “Where’d you pick up your cold?” is really lighting a match to the short fuse on my temper.

Don’t think for a minute I’m exaggerating the depths of this illness. You can’t imagine the pain and suffering involved in facing a life threatening cold when your wife is out of town. Divine intervention should prevent any married man from suffering a debilitating disease, like a cold, while home alone.  It’s gender genetic.  Men don’t suffer well.  Wives are supposed to be there to nurse us through these times of catastrophic illness. 

But since Jan is in Denver doing what grandmothers do when new granddaughters arrive, our latest addition, Sutton Elaine Damiano being born just over two weeks ago, I’m forced to do the solitary martyr thing. Suffering in silence, however, is not my style. 

Sniffling to the ‘puter and “Googling” cold cures, both real and imagined, one finds the usual suspects, Zinc, Echinacea and Vitamin C, recommended to ward off a cold but they seem to be of little help once the sore throat, clogged nasal passages and ravaged vocal chords arrive on the scene.  

One is faced with returning to the tried and hopefully true.  Like chicken soup.  While the steaming broth does give off a hopeful odor that seems to promise a cure is in the offing the only empirical proof validating the healing powers of chicken soup is no one ever heard a chicken sneeze.  Or possess a hacking cough. 

Personal research over the years has offers proof but one liquid aids in alleviating cold and flu suffering.  7-Up.  Now some herald the healing powers of ginger ale, but for yours truly it’s the “un-cola” that functions as a miracle elixir when battling the “yucks.” 

Speaking of nourishing liquids for the unwell, one of life’s mysteries is why tea is the answer only after the body’s temperature elevates past one hundred degrees.   From orange pekoe to honey wheat chamomile, it’s tea to “feed a fever” but once a body returns to 98.6 coffee is again the preferred method of satisfying a “caffeine jones”.  

Last, and certainly least, in the “cold“ war is the “cover your body with an evil smelling goo creating an odor so evil the cold virus immediately packs up and flees the neighborhood,” theory.  First just coat your nostrils with Vicks Vap-O-Rub or Mentholatem.  A tiny dab of anything that pungent has to work, right?  Nope.  Then the answer must be an even greater application of bad smelling gunk. So additional globs are greased on the chest and fill the entire house with the all-encompassing scent of menthol.  This is the perfect Greta Garbo cure for someone who “wants to be alone.”  Trust me your wish will be granted. 

Finally, there’s the ancient axiom of  “starve a cold, feed a fever.”   Any individual whose idea of “starving” is lasting more than an hour without a snack cannot verify whether or not this is a valid concept.