On The Nature of Colds

The last few days have mostly been spent under a pile of used kleenex. Lovely image, isn't it? My family has been passing around a cold over the last couple weeks, and I was the last to fall victim. Normally I dread colds and do everything in my power to avoid them. This is because, in my experience, what is just a normal run-of-the-mill cold in anyone and everyone else that blows over in a few days turns into a raging infection once it takes hold in my head. The normal course is that it progresses normally for a few days, lulling me into a false sense of "maybe this one won't be so bad," then, just when I should be getting better, WHAMO! it turns into a sinus infection. I have had enough of these that I can recognize them with a certain amount of accuracy, but, lulled as I have been, I hope I am wrong and delay the inevitable visit to the doctor's office (this is combined with my general dislike of going to the doctor, as they are prone to poke you with sharp things like needles at the least provocation, and, despite my vast experience with my upper respiratory system and it's usual m.o., they often don't believe my diagnosis and protest my requests for antibiotics so that the infection doesn't spread). This leads me to the next step. When untreated as a sinus infection, the "cold" moves into my chest and becomes bronchitis, thus I am infected from the top of my head to the bottom of my chest. Doesn't that sound like fun? The last time I let it go that far I ended up at an urgent care clinic (in Abilene) with a fever of approximately 101 degrees, where they insisted on giving me a steroid shot "to help me feel better." Upon receiving the shot I immediately felt worse, mostly due to the fact that the nurse basically punched me with the side of her fist and a hypodermic needle coming out of it. Michael almost punched her.

Fortunately, this cold doesn't seem to be one of those. While I just admitted that I often try to convince myself that my sinus infection really isn't one, I always know that it really is one. This time, I really am starting to feel better when I should, not worse. Perhaps this is because I am able to get all the rest I need, since I have no obligations such as school or work to get in the way. We are still hoping for a change in that status before too much longer, so as to facilitate our ability to not live with our parents forever. For now, my only wish is that I did have my own place so that I could go to the soon to be closing local animal shelter and adopt a dog before they "terminate" all of them. I want a puppy dog.