hot and cold

This has been an interesting year for ailments.  As you well know, from my unsettling posts.

Apparently my prose was disturbing enough that my mother suggested I should escape Mexico's gravity before I -- well, not to put too fine a point on it -- died.  Of course, I will do that at one point no matter where I am.

So,here I am in Oregon.  Away from the land of exotic diseases. And what happens?  I am here for two days and I contract a cold.

Cold and flu season was always a nuisance for me in the decade before I headed south.  When I was in my 40s, colds and flu would generally pass me by.  But the moment I racked up the dreaded 5 in front of my age, they were drawn to me -- in the same way Mexican mosquitoes are.

That was one of the things I enjoyed most about moving south.  Colds were rare.

But yesterday the old symptoms were familiar.  That tickling raw spot at the back of the throat.  The slight headache.  The nascent cough.

If I learned anything from my military career, it was how to build a battle plan.  And this one I knew by rote.  Out came the heavy artillery of Nyquil with its reserve force Dayquil. 

I may have been a bit groggy, but the medicine helped me keep a semblance of health during my scheduled lunch with my friend John.  I knew I was fine when I could pronounce both the names and philosophies of Descartes and Nietzsche  -- a rare field sobriety test for the pretentious.

Of course, the best weapon is rest.  So, off I go to bed.

At some point, I need to start working on the house.