Well, no sooner than I recover from dysentery I come down with a sinus cold. Damn it. I have been Neti-potting and Breaking Bad ala Walter White ala Heisenberg with uncut pseudoephedrine hydrochloride, but I’m still feeling pretty crummy. (Hey there was a Badger character in that show, but I relate to him not at all.)

I attribute the source of the cold to riding the daladala (i.e., sardine-mobile) to and from school last week. I was surrounded by sneezing adults and children with rivulets of mucus draining from their noses. Yep. You can’t escape those types of germs in tight places. Believe me: I tried.

Many years ago, when I was suffering from a pretty nasty sinus infection, I wrote a poem. It seems appropriate to revisit it now in the hopes of banning the current iteration to Hell. Therefore, without further ado, enjoy “Ode to a Cold.” And remember to wash your hands before sticking them in your eyeballs.

Ode to a Cold

By Stephanie Mtui

On the first day of my cold, I awoke with a start.
It was 3:36 am; my bedroom still dark.
My neck was all stiff, right tight ‘round my collar,
And I quickly realized that I couldn’t swaller.

I shook my head in disbelief, what could be the matter?
I rolled out of bed, causing cat-beasts to scatter.
I fumbled around in the dark for the light, and
crept toward the bathroom, aiming to stifle the blight.

I searched through the medicine chest for the Vicks,
eager for a concoction that would bring a quick fix.
I sprayed the elixir on my now-inflamed throat,
And hoped that the Vicks my sore gullet would smote.

In the meantime my husband awoke with a groan,
Apparently disturbed by the human and cat moans,
“Don’t tell me,’ he murmured, “have you caughten my cold?”
“Perish the thought,” I replied, but my fate was foretold.

I told him, “I really just have a sore windpipe,”
“exhausted from recent blowing on my flute-pipe.”
He said, “you can’t get sick from practicing the flute,
That theory in my opinion just doesn’t compute.”

I moved through that first day of my cold in denial,
Believing my ailment was merely a trifle.
But fate would soon show I was destined for misery,
And that cold that was brewing would become downright ornery.

On Day 2 of my cold, the symptoms grew worse.
I woke with eyes closed shut, my lips stifling a curse.
Shortly my eyes and my nose began to water,
My sinuses seized up, and my body grew hotter.

My head began to ache like it was in a vise;
So I slithered to the kitchen in search of some ice.
I downed some ibuprofen and dug out the neti-pot,
And brewed up some saline to blow out the snot.

On the way back to bed, I saw my reflection
In the mirror—yep, it’s an upper respiratory infection.
I crawled under the covers and tried to re-snooze,
As I tossed and I turned and longed for my masseuse.

On Day 3 of my cold, my nostrils turned red,
My teeth were in pain, my skull a nuclear warhead.
The temperature of my body reached fever pitch,
So I ditched my nightie, wearing not even a stitch.

It did me no good, I continued to braise,
As I languished there in bed–a serious malaise.
I felt as if I were boiling in oil
With the countenance of a writhing gargoyle.

Soon I was overwhelmed by a perfume quite sour,
So I crawled from the bed and slinked to the shower.
Ah, hot water and steam, what a gift from the Gods!
[in the background, a grateful husband applauds.]

When I awoke on Day 4, it was much of the same,
I shouted, “that’s enough! I demand a quitclaim.”
But my cold wasn’t quite finished with me yet;
It tormented me for days in its wicked net.

On Day ump-teen, my husband sympathetically condoled
And agreed that this blasted cold had gotten quite auld.
“Get thee behind me, Satan!” I cursed at the menace,
“You are evil incarnate; I ban ye to the eternal furnace.”

Then finally one night I managed to sleep through,
The aches, pains, and phlegm having finally been subdued.
I leapt from my cradle, body and mind sound,
My cold, at long last, was nowhere to be found!

© 2012 Stephanie L. Mtui All Rights Reserved.

Someday I’ll share my other illness related cold, penned while under the influence of Oxycodone.