This morning I am sipping dandelion tea made from roots dug this summer. Steel cut porridge is simmering on the stove. The aroma and steam from the cooking is soothing for my dry passages. No, my tryst with the cold is not over. I am fooled once again.
It is difficult to be patient. I am angry with my body, not healing fast enough. But I must get over my anger and allow my body the ease to heal itself. The two of us fighting each other will only prolong the process.
My anxiety last evening sent me into a panic of breathlessness. I got a dose of how my patients used to feel. One never knows how it feels until the shoe is on the other foot or should I say, on my foot. It is good to taste one’s own medicine. A cup of peppermint tea and other tending from the man around the house helped a lot. An old beauty aid comes in handy, too. Never throw anything out. You just never know when something will come in handy.
I should stop saying, I think I’m feeling better today. Optimism hasn’t helped. I should just ride out the storm. My colds are usually long affairs. I’m among the 10% of the population with undeveloped sinuses. The only ones I have are tiny ones above my eyebrows.
I didn’t know I was an anomaly till I was in my 30s when I had an acute attack of facial pain (sinusitis). It was after visits to several specialists that I was diagnosed. What it meant for me was I can’t breathe dirty air. I had to give up smoking. At my worst, everything bothered me – dust, perfume, cigarette smoke. I could taste the ink on newspapers in the same room. Colds took a long time to get over.
Life generally sucks when I have a cold. I can be handle it only for a week. Then I go berserk which is right around now. I feel totally devoid of sanity and good will. Thank goodness Christmas is not till December for I am also short on joy.
However, life marches on. I still have the same old, same old problems, perplexities or whatever it is that life is made of. It is not made of sugar canes, that is for sure. That reminds me, I have bills to pay. Call me cranky, call me bitchy. They both fit. And
as Scarlet Ohara I would breathlessly say, Tomorrow is another day.