How can one microbe cause this much...um...mucus? Someone tell me.
But, youíre going to have to speak up, because my ears are stopped up and I canít hear anything.
Also, youíre going to have to use tiny words, because my comprehension level is being interfered with by, um, mucus.
A song: mucus in the morning, mucus in the noontime, mucus all evening long.
And at night.
At night, Iíve been trying to tank myself up on the useless but expensive things from my cabinet that are supposed to fight off the invaders causing the development of, um, mucus. The drugs probably taste bad, but I wouldnít know-óme and my sense of taste parted ways sometime last Sunday. The Ďmedicinesí also probably make me a little mentally fuzzy, but, a Nobel Prize should be awarded to someone who can differentiate (hey, big word!) between my fuzziness levels with drugs (pretty high) and without them (also right up there).
And Iíve driven occasionally during this illness, howís that for terrifying!?
Yet I make the effort (to sleepó-try to keep up with my line of thought, tenuous though it may be!), because I know sleep is so important in fighting off the invading mucusoids. (I donít care if thatís a word or not. Someone could sue me, but Iím betting Iíll be dead of THE COMMON COLD very soon, so theyíre really going to have to hurry up.)
Back to the subject of sleep: if Iím to have the strength to hold up my fifty pound head tomorrow, I must sleep (or my neck needs to retroactively take up weight lifting). (Dragging my sloshing head around is just not working, because itís giving me carpet burns, a whole new worry.)
Anyway. Sleep. Gotta try. Generally, if I can hazily recall what life was like way back there in the days when my interior face didnít make weird sounds, I think I often fell asleep on my left side. So Iíve tried that.
The um, mucusoids which were generally spread out over the nasal/sinus region of my whole face just packed up camp and all, um, slid, to the left, roughly behind my left eye. There they brainstormed and came up with a new super fun sport for themselves: letís push outward on the eye and see what happens!
Migraine is what happens.
Three hours later, I decide to try sleeping on my right side. The slide happens in reverse, of course.
Your blessedly unclogged head comes up with a solution: sleep sitting up.
Sure, with a fifty pound head. Any other bright ideas, Sunshine?
Exhaustion eventually does drag me down toward sleep most nights, but not without at least one vicious coughing fit surfacing first. I understand that coughing helps the body evict the chest-abiding mucusoids, but I do need to breathe, just every once in a while.
And, Iím burning through my last bag of cough drops, because they, as the ads promise, ďsoothe my poor aching throat.Ē
Iíve done several things to try to fight my way back to health. I soaked myself in the hottest water I could tolerate, which made me a soggy woman with a bad cold.
Iíve tried vacuuming the rooms Iíve been spending most of my time in (I just donít have the energy to restructure that phrase, so would you do that for me, gentle reader?). That left me a woman with a bad cold with vacuumed rooms, no help. (Side note: it did help remove the marks my dragged head makes.)
I tried sticking my head in a dishwasher that was just concluding its cycle, thinking that the steam would help me.
My cold got no better and I burned my lips.
I canít decide what aspect is more painful: the pressure (due to...um...mucus), the body aches, the headaches (probably also due to, um, you-know-what), the raw throat from coughing, or possibly the burned lips or rug-burned head (both ears!).
Just when Iím fresh out of ideas about ways to make it go away, I remember these lyrics: ďAre you weak and heavy laden? Take it to the Lord in prayer.Ē
(Iíd nod my fifty pound head, but I might never be able to bring it upright again, so letís just say I agree with that concept.)
Okay, Lord, here I am, taking it to you in prayer. Rescue me from the mucusoids!