I coughed a bit Sunday morning. Just the throat-clearing kind. By Sunday evening it had progressed into something a bit more persistent. At dinner my sinuses announced their plans to disprove of everything.
On Monday I popped a low fever and fought it off. I spent most of the day in bed, alternating between tired and weary. I ate, but those were my only adventures. My fever broke. My fever returned over night.
By Tuesday the fever disappeared for good, and I’d been under two full days of sinus and cold pills, chased with Nyquil. Nyquil doesn’t hit me like it hits you. I take it during the day and wait for something to happen. Nothing ever does. But the medicine helps.
The cough comes and goes. My ability to breathe comes and goes. I’d prefer almost any other mild illness over the inability to breathe, so this is never fun.
By yesterday I was in a better place, no longer happy to have all of these many medications, but considering them a chore. I’m getting better!
Today, just the sniffles and the cough, but I can breathe about 75 percent of the time. So this is all received very well.
I spent the afternoon watching the sun move across the sky from this view. I was smelling — smelling! — a homemade chicken soup being slow cooked on the stove.
When it heals me tonight we’ll talk about the miracle cure.
