February 1, 2001
‘I got it bad, and that ain’t good’ - THE COMMENTARY
By Joseph Planta
VANCOUVER -- It was Thursday night. I went to bed with a runny nose. I knew then that it could probably be a cold, or just a random runny nose. As I sit at my desk, there’s a cushion behind me or else, I’d simply slide out and be on the floor. Friday, school was okay, but I was digging for Kleenex as I sat in on a discussion on Macdonald’s National Policy. (Boredom incarnate.) There was ringing in my ears and I sat there not in fear that I’d be called upon, but nervous that I’d sneeze. With the onslaught of a cold, it wouldn’t be pretty that’s for sure.
I made it through Friday. It was cold, rainy and I knew that this weekend would be a weekend of as much rest as possible. As I sit at my desk, there’s a box of Strepsils anti-bacterial throat lozenges. My throat isn’t sore yet, but there is tenderness no doubt. My thinking is I fight the bastard by downing lozenges. As in life, proactivity is better than reactivity. An old high school pal and I were chatting on Tuesday and he said that he felt like he was coming down with a cold. My advice to him was to down Vitamin C capsules so as to do something proactive. Little did I know I should be heeding my own advice. I did a Vitamin C pill Friday afternoon, and had a tub of orange juice, but now on a Saturday night, my stomach is reacting to too much acidity.
My nose is stuffy and every so often I have to blow my nose. It reminds me of that old episode of the much-lamented Murphy Brown. Silverberg had a cold and after blowing his nose he opened up the tissue’s contents and exclaimed something to the effect that there lay the contents of the part of his brain that does long division. As I sit at my desk, I’m listening to some CD’s I raided from my bedroom shelf. There’s a Tony Bennett one and some opera thing. I listen because the clamour of singing voices and orchestrated musicians gives me some beat as to how to punch the keys that look up to me. The space bar is hit and then some more letters. Christ, I hope I’m making sense.
Colds are a funny thing. I don’t think I have the flu, yet I didn’t have a flu shot. Not this season, not ever. My mom prodded me to get a flu shot, but I told her it was a matter of principle. The recent wave of “super bugs” made me realise that inoculation may make me privy to those so said “bugs”. As I sit at my desk, I’ve just had a good night’s sleep. It’s Sunday afternoon now and after downing a tub of chicken soup, I feel better. Slept well, much to the assistance of a Tylenol flu capsule. I awoke in the morning, around 8:00 and coughed. Went back to bed, and then got up again at noon. They advise you to not take a bath, but I’ve always taken a bath every morning, so today would be no different. I feel better, but my nose is stuffed. I remarked earlier that with this nasal blockage when I speak, I sound like Pierre Trudeau.
I’m chewing this Wrigley Alpine cough relief gum. It looks much like my Excel Winterfresh, which I chew incessantly, thus I find comfort that my old habit is manifested in this comforting cough gum. However, the throat is rather sore now, and there isn’t much difference. The movie channel has Stepmom playing. I must have seen that movie three times now. I guess it’s a guilty pleasure of mine. Who knows. When one has a cold, nothing seems to matter.
I’m hearing voices. No, my mental health is fine, but I was lying in bed this morning and wanted to have a tape playing. Because my CD’s are in a place where one would have to get up from the bed, I dug through the bedside table and found an Ella Fitzgerald tape. Jazz. It’s actually pretty good, one tends to leave it on, because the strength to turn it off or find something else is lacking. Colds do that to you. The bedtime tape I happen to be listening to, pre-cold, is Margaret Thatcher reading her memoirs. It happens to be a thing I picked up at the library. It’s very interesting and somehow I get the feeling Lady Thatcher is talking to me. When induced with a cold, delirium often sets in.
I don’t want to miss school tomorrow. But who knows. I think rest is most necessary. A cold is like a monkey on your back. You try to shake it off, but the damned thing sticks. Perhaps it’s punishment for not using an umbrella as I walked through rainy Vancouver. Perhaps it’s complacency. I just realised that Sunday’s are bad TV days. I don’t want to move. I want to get up but I don’t feel like it. Colds make you ask, “Why me?” I guess when it comes to that, it isn’t good.
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An archive of Joseph Planta's previous columns can be found by clicking HERE .