Hi! My friends call me Phlegm. Well, OK, they don’t, but they should.
Really. This has gone on long enough. I’ve been coughing juicily for three months now. It’s been one cold after another — first, the mother of all head colds, involving sinuses set to explode into the most serious pain if I made the slightest change in altitude (you know, like sitting down) which then morphed into a drainage problem that had me thinking I should install storm sewers in my face, culminating in chest congestion of the type that had people running for cover whenever I coughed.
Next, what I thought was an allergy attack that wouldn’t go away slowly but inexorably grew into a sneezing marathon that lasted roughly three days. I was sore in muscles I didn’t know I had before. Thankfully, the sneezing stopped — because the irritation moved down into my bronchial tubes. Yay. More coughing.
And then there’s now. Even before the last round of expectorating was over, a new virus moved in and made itself comfortable. SuperDad keeps asking me if I’m trying to hack up a lung. We got into a discussion about lung-hacking-upping last Sunday evening and concluded that couldn’t actually happen unless the lung-hacker-upper had Tuberculosis and accomplished it piece by piece. No, I don’t have TB. But sometimes I feel like I might as well.
This cold season is only half over, and so far I’ve been phlegm-y for all of it. What will the rest of this winter bring? A doctor recently told me to wear a surgical mask whenever I go out if I don’t want to get sick again. So I’ll be wearing a mask to go grocery shopping from now on. NOT.
And it’s not just me, either. I know so many people who are dealing with the same constant-cold syndrome as I’ve been. I’m just grateful that Norovirus hasn’t visited my house yet.
Uh-oh. I hope I didn’t just jinx myself.