The Man-Cold – It’s Not Just For Men

I feel fuzzy.

I have a cold. Most often, I can dodge colds and the flu. When I’m sick, I can shake it off after two or three days.

Regardless of how long, when I’m sick, I’m not just sick. It’s the “Man-Cold.”

The Man-Cold is a blanket term for men and women who whine like a puppy left in a kennel when they’re sick. Because we’re sick. And it’s icky.

Day one? The Man-Cold crept in:

“Oh, this is how it ends,” I said. “I’ll never finish my novel or see the Alamo.”

“You never wanted to see the Alamo,” said my husband.

“That’s not the point.”

On day two, I was convinced there wouldn’t be a day three. Surely, one shouldn’t feel such ickiness. My joints ached. My nose was red. My eyes. Oh, God? Where were my eyes? My sinuses were so puffy, I looked like a hollowed out pumpkin. I lay on the couch, staring at Pinterest. I’m sure at that point I was delirious with a fever. Pinning sewing ideas when I have no idea how to spin a bobbin.

“What do you want for lunch?”

I used the last of my energy to answer my husband:  “Doesn’t matter.”

“Okay, then salmon.”

“Almond butter sandwich. Cut into fours. Crusts cut off … please.”

But, I made it to day three. After a night of purring in my husband’s face. However, by morning I was a gushy snot pump. Blowing my nose until it was bone dry. Then, the Sahara conditions in the house led to an epic nosebleed of the decade.
pouchheldsmallx1000-u3As an adult, my nosebleeds stop within thirty seconds. A minute at the most. This time, I bled for 15 horrifying minutes. My husband called my parents, who raised the Tammy whose nosebleeds would result in an ER visit.

The bleeding stopped thanks to a damp paper towel squeeze. And at that point, I was not having fun.

I couldn’t breathe. Oh, but that didn’t stop the sneezes. I poured through quarter of box of tissue as I looked for a non-gag temperature app on my phone. To no avail, I dragged my weak body from the TV room to the kitchen, and I took my temp – old school: 99.1. I went to bed convinced I’d contracted the measles.

I’m on day four. My eyes are sensitive to light. My head is pounding. And I’m sniffing like I inhaled a jalapeño. And my joints? Well, I forgot those ached on day two. So, I must be improving.

Slowly, the Man-Cold is subsiding. Just a bit.

After all, for lunch I had an almond butter sandwich cut into fours.

With the crusts.

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