An Open Letter to my Head Cold

• Posted on October 29, 2009
• by Karen Fayeth
• 3 Comments

Dear Insidious Little Pinche Bug that has chosen to infest my body:

So, I see you’ve decided to set up camp in my head.

My, how kind of you.

Oh, and you came with your usual matching set of baggage. Stuffed up nose. Sore throat. Plugged ears. And that hacking cough.

How fun it is when you give me a housewarming present as I hack up a yellow globule from my lungs. Such a lovely color!

And the body aches! Oh the body aches, I think those are my favorite! Knees, hips, shoulders, neck. Ow. Makes it almost impossible to sleep!

But you like that, eh? I mean, sleep only strengthens my immune system and THAT’s not what you are about, are you little evil cold germs?

Nope. You like to keep me up late at night, not sleeping, heck, not even breathing!

You know those two funny tubes they call nostrils? Yeah? Those are so I can breathe! When you plug BOTH of them, well, sure, I can result to mouth breathing.

But I sort of resemble a punch-drunk boxer when I do.

Makes my husband that much more enamored of me!

Not that I’m a shining star anyway, with my puffy face and red-rimmed nose.

What I most want to know, Dear Cold Bug, is how in the hell do you get my hair to look like that? I mean, ostensibly, your reach only extends to my upper respiratory system, and yet my hair responds to your brand of illness by standing up at odd angles?

I never knew you were a hairstylist too!

And now, my ears are throbbing. How fun! Since childhood I’ve been prone to ear infections.

But you probably knew that already, didn’t you?

I’ve tried to be nice to you, but nice doesn’t register in your little cell dividing nucleus, does it?

You know what I did this morning? I drank a biiiig glass of orange juice. Oh yes, a blast of vitamin C. As I drank, I imagined thousands of tiny “noooooo’s!” in chorus as many of your offspring were attacked by my newly strengthened white blood cells.

Then you know what I did when I was done with that glass?

I poured another.

I’m done with you.

No, seriously.

You can go now.

And by go, I don’t mean hop from me to The Good Man. He doesn’t need any of your shenanigans either!