Bleah.

[rivka]

I have a horrendous cold. Weirdly, it started in my chest and has mostly stayed there - I have a little nasal congestion, but mostly a cough, a raw throat, and a dreadful case of fatigue. I think yesterday was probably the peak; I was up half the night either coughing or listening to Alex cough over the baby monitor. Because naturally we both get sick at once. Mercifully, Michael had the damn thing last week and is feeling mostly better.

"I wish I could stay home," I told him last night, "but we have an abstract deadline coming up next week, and if I don't get the data analysis done tomorrow I don't know when I'll have time to do it."

Actually, it didn't sound too bad: a day of peaceful, quiet work at my desk - too germy to be expected to go anywhere near patients - with no cranky, sick baby to deal with and an endless supply of lemon-ginger tea.

So of course, this morning, it was bucketing down rain. And my bus was ten minutes late. Even my golf umbrella wasn't up to the contingency. My shoes are so hopelessly soaked I have taken them off. I wish I could do the same with the chilly wet denim clinging to my knees and calves. Even my shirt has big wet patches from the brief interval between stepping off the bus and getting my umbrella open.

At least the thing about wet feet and colds is just a myth.

Comments

[papersky.livejournal.com]

It's not entirely a myth. If your immune system is successfully fighting off a virus thus far, lowering your temperature with cold feet/hair can lower your resistance and you'll succumb.